


Say Goodnight and Go

by gingertintedglasses



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Becca Barnes is a treasure, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Copywriter!Bucky, Fluff, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Sarah Rogers lives, Stucky Big Bang 2017, awkward adorable steve and bucky, boston snowpocalypse 2015, graphic designer!Steve, just so much fluff and also a puppy, mentions of previous self harm, offensive nordic pattern hats, sbb2017, unexpectedly sharing space, very brief mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingertintedglasses/pseuds/gingertintedglasses
Summary: Bucky and Steve work for SSR Marketing in Boston.  It's January 2015 and it's starting to snow in Boston, faster than can be kept up with. Bucky ends up with few transport options to get home and Steve offers to let Bucky crash on his couch until the MBTA is running reliably again.  Mutual pining, close quarters, some weather-related mishaps, and some well-timed meddling from a mischievous, well-meaning Sarah Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Rebecca Barnes, do their level best to help Steve and Bucky own up to their feelings. Lots of awkward flirting, second-guessing, coffee, snow, and a puppy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rooonil_waazlib](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooonil_waazlib/gifts).



> This is for the Stucky Big Bang 2017! As a Boston native who got stuck in the snowpocalypse of 2015 I couldn't help but put Steve and Bucky in the same situation and write almost 30k of fluff. Because 2017's been rough. The title comes from Imogen Heap's "Say Goodnight and Go" and if you think I don't have an entire sappy 90s/00s playlist that I listened to while I wrote this you're wrong.
> 
> This is a gift for @rooonil_waazlib who has listened to me complain my way through this entire process and introduced me to the glory of the elmo fire gif. Her "Brave Boy" contribution to the bang is something you should check out, too!
> 
> The amazing @whatasaur not only beta'ed but also did an incredible amount of artwork and the banner below. She is a lovely artist, human, and friend and has cheered me on the whole way and you should check out her awesome art here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442
> 
> The wonderful @comedicdrama was also kind enough to create some art for this story and cheered me on (and has one of the best reaction gif collections and nordic hat opinions) and you can check it out on their Tumblr here: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369
> 
> If you want to know a little of what Boston was like that winter, here are some great, easy to digest facts and figures that I used to reference while I wrote, (because for me the whole experience was one giant, snowy you've-got-to-be-effing-kidding-me) : https://weather.com/news/news/new-england-boston-record-snow-tracker

Bucky’s problem was that Steve Goddamn Rogers was goddamn perfect.

He was always impeccably dressed and wore his stupid glasses that made him look stupid handsome. And he clearly went to the gym every morning at, like, _too goddamn early o’clock_ which Bucky didn’t think existed outside of movies but there he was with his chiseled jaw and trapezius muscles you’d need a Sherpa to help navigate. He was pleasant and patient and kind and professional and a really good artist.

And he was just perfect, ok, and it was a problem.

Bucky met Steve his very first day: in Boston and on the job in the new satellite office of S.S.R. Marketing. Bucky was a copywriter and Steve was a graphic designer. And for the past eight months, they had worked together pretty frequently and almost never spoke outside of professionally perky emails and stilted in-person conversation. 

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was awkward (granted, he didn’t feel as awkward as he used to, far enough out from his tour that he felt reintegrated, most days), because Steve was awkward (he was so adorably awkward, holy shit), because his crush was obvious (status quo), or some combination of all three.

His computer pinged.

_Hi Bucky,_

_Attached, please find an updated draft for the MIT campaign with the text you prepared. According to my meeting minutes, Natasha needs the final piece by 5pm. If you don’t have any last adjustments, I’ll pass it along to Natasha for approval._

_Thanks!_

_Steve_

The financial and insurance industries had been the bread and butter of S.S.R., but with the economic downturn in 2008, their Director, Nick, had gotten together his best and brightest and threw a Hail Mary pass into the education sector. Seven years later, they had added a dozen higher education institutions to their portfolio and S.S.R. Marketing had survived the recession.

MIT was their newest client; the current campaign only their second for the Institute. Highlighting the achievements of their most iconic female graduates, the goal was to attract more female applicants.  

 _Women in STEM_ the campaign was called. Bucky’d even come up with some hashtags to use on social media: _#Scifemmes #Technoloshe #fEmgineering #Mathermatics_

Bucky thought he was pretty clever and he thought Steve’s artwork was pretty amazing.  

_Steve—_

_Looks great! I think we’re ready to go. Feel free to pass this along to Nat. Thanks!_

_BB_

Three hours ahead of their deadline. This deserved a cup of coffee.

Barton had been there most recently if the coffee stains and light dusting of sugar on the counter in the communal kitchen were any indication. Bucky refilled the machine and leaned against the window to wait for it to brew.

January afternoons were cold enough that he could feel the chill seeping into his clothes through the window. The sun would be setting in an hour, maybe two. He watched people bundled and bustling below, hurrying through Faneuil Hall from one shop to another or ducking back into an office from Quincy Market, gloved hands clutching lunch.

By the time he poured his coffee and turned to go, it had started to snow.

“Ugh.” He muttered into his coffee mug.

And almost walked straight into Steve.

“Whoa! Hey. Sorry.” Steve smiled, hands up and ready to stabilize Bucky.

“ _Hssst_ – Sorry.” Bucky stumbled to avoid a head-on collision and spilled some coffee on his hand. He’d live. 

“What’s so terrible?” 

Bucky nodded to the window. “The snow.”

“Not a fan of the winter weather?”

“No.” He was tempted to ask if Steve was, but had a sense that the response would be enthusiastic and filled with fancy ski lodge names.   He asked anyway. “You?”

Steve shook his head. “No. Hate it.” He shrugged, tossing Bucky a disarming smile that Steve clearly didn’t know was so disarming. “But I love Boston, so.”

And that was it. Bucky was a blank slate too busy trying to decide the name for the shade of blue of Steve’s eyes and he realized after a moment that he was staring, and then a moment later that Steve was staring back, so he mumbled a hasty goodbye and something about aloe and wasn’t sure he even took a breath until he was back in his office. 

Fuck. 

Steve Goddamn Rogers was a goddamn problem.

***

By the time five o’clock rolled around it had been snowing steadily and there were nearly six inches on the ground. He usually stayed a little later, not only to avoid traffic on the train and the roads, but because he needed to (and it meant he’d get more time to totally _not_ stare at Steve when he passed by his desk for no real reason for the 10 th time that day). He contemplated braving the evening rush because of the snow, but instead hunkered down to start working on the new campaign for Suffolk. And to answer a new email from Steve.

Bucky did not have a problem.

***

Bucky had a problem.

Six o’clock: board the train at Downtown Crossing. Listen to announcements about passengers not all being able to fit and to wait for the next train and apologies about the weather. The poor girl conducting the train sounded tired of people being rude.

Six forty-five: Four stops later and not only was Bucky getting intimately familiar with the back of some other guy’s head (a guy who needed to shower or get new shampoo), but the train was going out of service.

And they were all getting on buses.

They, and thousands of other people standing around JFK/UMass station in the snow. He could see five buses lined up, and a wall of people pushing forward as if they’d all somehow fit. He took a couple pictures and sent them to Becca with a caption: _You might have been right about going back to to California instead._

Bucky sighed and turned around, pushing back through the mass of bodies into the station. No one was going anywhere anytime soon. He found a corner and sat down (he’d bleach the jeans later, he promised himself) and pulled out his phone again to snark-text with his sister (and brainstorm ideas for the branding meeting tomorrow with Tufts). He wasn’t much warmer, but it was dry. He’d wait. 

He waited until ten thirty that night to board a bus (there were considerably fewer people and he managed to get a spot standing on the third bus in line) and didn’t step into his apartment in Quincy until almost one in the morning. There was a foot of snow on the ground by the time he shuffled through his door, freezing and hungry.

He’d get a couple hours of sleep and head into the office as early as he could, he decided as he scrubbed the chill from his skin in the shower. He could function for a day on a couple hours of sleep and tomorrow would be better, the MBTA would have cleared the train tracks.

***

Bucky didn’t care that he was snapping at everyone.  The issue the night before, apparently, had been that it had snowed too fast to clear the tracks, and so the MBTA stopped service in order to clear the nine miles of track for the morning commute. The issue that morning was how cold it was – so cold that two trains had been rendered disabled.

He wasn’t at work until almost ten am. He’d left his apartment at seven in the morning after a mere three hours of sleep. Between the cold and only one cup of coffee in the three-hour commute to the office, Bucky wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. He was exhausted and refused to acknowledge the damp edges of his black slacks or the wrinkles on his button down. He’d given up and taken his tie off shortly after arriving at the office despite how rumpled it made him feel.

And there was a problem with his email client. IT was on their way (doubtful) and he really didn’t have time for it, seeing as they had a deadline for Suffolk the next day and so far his contact on the campus had been nothing short of infuriating and rejected all options he and Steve had passed along.

He went in search of coffee while he waited for IT and he was lucky enough to find a giant novelty mug (cat ears sticking out towards the top and the handle shaped like a tail) shoved way in the back of a top shelf in the kitchen cabinets. He cleaned it out and poured as much coffee in as would fit. Clint squawked at the pitiful amount of coffee left over.

“Aww, coffee. Dude, refill the brewer next time.”

Bucky turned to see Clint in the doorway to the break room. He knew he was being an ass, but he was _too damn frustrated_.

“Whoa. Wicked hat. What the fuck.”

Bucky forgot he hadn’t taken his hat off yet; he was still chilly and it was really warm. “It’s reindeer. Having sex.” He motioned towards the top of his head with one hand. “Nordic style. Obviously.”

“You mean Gayndeer. Those are dude reindeer. Reindeers. Whatever.”

“I don’t think reindeer care about that sort of shit.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”

Bucky didn’t look back as he headed for his office. And he also didn’t hesitate to flip Clint off as he went. He only felt a little bad afterwards.

He was partway through proofing some updated copy when Daisy dropped in.

“So what happened?”

“Hell if I know. It just,” he gestured vaguely to his screen, “stopped working. I can’t get it to reconnect and I logged out and back in and everything.”

Daisy had the wherewithal to make a face that seemed to Bucky to mean the fix would be complicated and painful.

“Right. Ok. I’ll take a look. You just…do something else.”

Bucky settled on playing Candy Crush because everything he needed was on the computer Daisy had just sat herself in front of. When the same steps Bucky had tried didn’t work for her, she grumbled something indistinct and leaned closer to his screen.

***

“Did you get my ema—oh.” Ten minutes later and Steve was in his doorway and Daisy was still sitting at Bucky’s desk muttering about increasingly ridiculous reasons for Bucky’s email to be acting so uselessly.

“No.” Bucky hadn’t meant to sound so clipped.

“What happened?”

“No idea. Hopefully Johnson’s sorting that out now.” Bucky huffed.

Daisy tapped on Bucky’s keyboard. Some seriously awkward silence settling heavy in the room was his only response.

Bucky sighed, taking a moment to berate himself for being mean, and turned to face Steve. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“It’s Suffolk.”

Bucky groaned. He’d only been at work for two hours and already it was after twelve and a shitshow of a day.

“Come on. I think the conference room’s free. Let’s meet in there in the meantime.” Bucky scribbled his username and password for Daisy, grabbed paper and pen, and led the way.

“They’re happy with your copy this time.” Steve smiled. “But the graphic’s gotta change. And also they want to add something about their new scholarships.” He made air quotes. “ _Just a line or two_.” 

Bucky laughed humorlessly. “Right. Isn’t that how this whole nightmare started?”

Steve smiled, searching Bucky’s face for a moment.

“What?”

“You hungry?”

Bucky hadn’t had a chance to eat before he left for work and it wasn’t like they were serving food on the T. “Starving.”

Which is how he wound up sitting across from Steve in Faneuil Hall. They worked together a lot, but they hadn’t really gone for lunch just the two of them very much. There were usually a lot of awkward silences, stops and starts in the conversation. Which was ridiculous. Steve was super hot and probably knew how to talk to other people because of how often he got hit on. Bucky wasn’t unfortunate-looking, but he tended to spend a good amount of his time second-guessing himself. Still feeling a little like the new kid in class at the office wasn’t exactly helping, but that was less about his co-workers and more about Bucky.

“So, uh, rough night?” Steve was making a valiant effort of keeping his meatball sub from being too messy.

Bucky lifted one shoulder in a shrug as he picked at his stir-fry. “Sort of. The T was so delayed, I didn’t get home until almost one.” 

“In the _morning?_ ” 

A breath of a laugh escaped Bucky. “Yeah. So, sorry I snapped at you.”

“You were hangry. It’s okay.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Bucky motioned to his lunch. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you said it.”

Steve smiled. “Someone’s gotta take care of you.” Steve paled. “I. I mean – I meant –”

Bucky tried not to blush and mostly managed. “I got – I know.” He flashed Steve a quick smile. _Because he could flirt with anything as long as its name wasn’t Steve Effing Rogers, goddamnit, Barnes._ “Thanks.”

This. This was the shit Bucky was talking about. He wasn’t sure if he was reading into it or if Steve was just good at putting his foot in his mouth or if they were both trying to (abysmally) flirt with one another.

“You, uh. You should try to leave earlier today, get home earlier maybe.”

“I just might.” Bucky shrugged. “Can’t hurt to try, anyway.” 

Steve smiled again, more relaxed this time. He was right; Bucky should leave earlier, he’d get home before one in the morning and actually get some sleep. 

***

Bucky wasn’t going to leave.

Between the news, weather (it was snowing again, _what the fuck_ ), and MBTA website, there were more delays than the day before and he was honestly too tired. He kept a change of clothes in his office for emergency meetings and so he figured he’d just suck it up for a night, get some real sleep, not have to feel disheveled the next day, and brave the commute home the following day instead.

“Aren’t you heading out soon?”

Bucky startled. He hadn’t realized Steve was still there. “Hey! Uhm, yeah. Soon.”

There was a little line between Steve’s brows. “I hope so, the weather’s getting worse. “

Bucky hoped he was smiling. “It’ll be ok. I’m letting the evening rush subside.”

Steve nodded. He didn’t look convinced, but wished Bucky a good evening and headed for the door.

***

Bucky was peering at his email at 9 am, his second cup of coffee in front of him. He’d gotten up around seven, changed, and stowed the sleeping bag he’d bought the night before in one of his empty file cabinets. He wasn’t in a position to afford a hotel, nor would the company pay for one. And a two to three hour commute each way everyday wasn’t something he was interested in. The floor wasn’t comfortable, but he was sure he’d get used to it. It’d only been one night. He’d adjust. And hopefully, no one would know he was sleeping there.

_Hi Bucky, Steve, and Natasha,_

_MIT is having an event this spring and want us to do some more marketing for them. I’ve attached their notes for your review. Natasha wants to meet tomorrow to see what you’ve got as a first-pass. I’ll follow up with each of you individually to set a meeting time. Thanks!_

_Peter_

Bucky sent along his availability to Peter and continued through his inbox. Spam, Suffolk, something from Lesley University, (S.S.R. was working on securing a contract with their Humanities department), and an email from Steve.

 _Bucky,_

_Not surprised MIT loved your Twitter tags! We make a great team_ _J_

_Steve_

Bucky smiled and fired off a quick response:

_Steve,_

_Who said it was my tags and not your design? We’re nearly unstoppable_.

_BB_

Before he could open the attachment from Lesley, Natasha appeared in his doorway with two paper bags from Flour.

“Did you bring me breakfast?” Bucky tried not to smile too wide.

“You and Steve. MIT is happy, so I’m happy.”

“MIT emailed us at like, ten last night about the current project and the next one.”

Natasha shrugged and handed him one of the bags. “They did. I was awake.”

Bucky accepted the paper bag and pulled out a breakfast sandwich and a sugar brioche bun. “Nat.”

“Your commute looked like hell; so a congratulatory and consolatory breakfast sandwich was in order. I have to keep morale up, after all.. And anyway, next meal is on you.”

“Deal.”

Natasha nodded, and headed for Steve’s office. Bucky dug into his breakfast gratefully. 

Bucky’s computer pinged.

_Too bad they didn’t let us share an office. Then we’d be completely unstoppable._

_Steve_

Bucky swallowed the bite of his sandwich hard. Since before Bucky joined S.S.R. Marketing, apparently, there had been rumblings of further expansion now that the company was back on more solid footing. He remembered well enough the conversation about whether to have him pack up the office he’d just moved into and share with Steve, or if Steve would move offices and share with Bucky. Ultimately, they hadn’t moved anywhere, and to his knowledge, any expansion conversations were on hold for Boston while headquarters launched an office in Los Angeles.

 _We’d get into far too much trouble if we shared an office_ , Bucky shot back.

He took a big sip of his coffee. It was hard to tell sometimes if Steve was flirting, or if it was just his brand of friendliness, or if Bucky was reading into everything just a little _too_ much because of his giant crush on Steve. He’d always been good at over-analyzing.

 _That’s a bad thing? ;)_ Came Steve's all-too-quick response.

Oh Jesus. It wasn’t even nine thirty in the morning and Steve Rogers was giving him heart palpitations.

_I can neither confirm nor deny anything, punk._

Bucky dove into his work, then, because he was not going to think about Steve and his maybe-flirty, maybe-not emails. 

He was not.

But ok, maybe there _was_ something there. He’d never heard Steve mention a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and Bucky was pretty sure the guy was single (somehow). He had no other reference point for interactions with Steve. He couldn’t very well snoop someone else’s emails with Steve to get a sense of whether this sort of flirting? teasing? – _whatever_ was just Steve being Steve, or if it was something he did specifically with Bucky. 

Bucky was supposed to be working. He navigated to his Google Play account and started his work playlist, before studiously ignoring his crush and getting to work.

***

“So how’s it going there?” Becca’s voice sounded down the line. Bucky leaned back in his chair, waiting for his soup to cool down enough to eat. It was after eight pm and he was the only one left in the office (he’d gone out to get dinner and brought himself back some cheddar broccoli soup for a snack and lunch the next day).

“Becks, it’s crazy. It hasn’t stopped snowing. They say there’s another storm coming and that’ll put us up somewhere around thirty, forty inches of snow. In like, two weeks.”

“Good god. How’s the commute going?”

“It’s not. I’ve been staying in my office overnight. Well, last night was the first night, tonight is night two. It took me three hours both ways the other day. I don’t have the time and energy for that.”

“Bucky! Isn’t there someone you could stay with or a hotel or something?”

“No, at least, not for long enough. The weather pattern the news lined up is crazy. It looks like it’s going to be a solid month of this.”

Becca paused for a couple moments. When she spoke again, Bucky could hear the sly smile in her voice. “What about Steve?”

“What? No. I – I _do not_ know him well enough to ask that. Oh my god.”

“You’ve known him for like, eight months. You work with him the most. Also to hear you tell it, you flirt a bunch.”

“ _I_ think we flirt a bunch. Who knows if he’s just being friendly.”

“No way. He thinks you’re handsome. I bet he’d let you stay with him.”

“I don’t even know where he lives.”

“I bet he’d share his bed.”

Bucky’s personal email pinged and it was a YouTube link from Becca. To Brian McKnight’s _Back At One_.

“Oh my god. Rebecca. Why are you like this?” Bucky groaned.

“I’m trying to help! Also Brian McKnight is a classic. Anyway, are you comfortable there, at least? Eating?”

“I am. I’ll get used to the arrangement. It’s not forever anyway. Just…until this is over.”

“Yeah.”

“How’s Sam, you talk to him lately?"

“Mm. He’s just back from Greece. Work and vacation thing, I think? Something like that. I think he’s headed to Boston soon. Or, he’s supposed to be.”

“Doubtful. They’ve been cancelling so many flights. Someone from HQ was supposed to come by for the new quarter and they grounded her plane, and like, all the others headed this way.” 

“Just stay warm and be safe, ok?”

“Yeah, Becks.”

“And find a way to snuggle with Steve.”

“Oh my god, I’m hanging up on you.”

He did, to the sound of her laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by the wonderful
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

Three days later, Bucky was still sleeping on his office floor and looking increasingly shitty. He knew it because he had eyes and also because even Clint was giving him some serious side-eye and about a four-foot personal bubble.

It was just. He couldn’t get to (or _from_ ) his apartment and his office floor wasn’t particularly comfortable. He’d had to go buy a couple outfits the day before because he was out of clean clothes. The weather wasn’t letting up and it was snowing too much too fast to clear the miles of uncovered track between Andrew station and the Braintree/Ashmont branches. They’d had four feet of snow in a couple weeks and it stayed so cold it never melted, just packed down and hardened into ice that was difficult to get off the tracks. Getting to Quincy was a pipedream. Enough people had turned to driving that 95 was considered a parking lot by four pm. Working from home was only an option for so long, and asking to be put up in a hotel wasn’t realistic. 

He’d get an inflatable mattress, he decided, and some sheets. Marshalls had that shit cheap enough and he’d feel better about sleeping in his office and he’d label food in the communal fridge and he’d be fine even if he couldn’t cook a real meal in the office toaster or microwave. 

***   

It was during a conference call when it happened. Things were moving along as normal and then Suffolk was talking about MIT’s campaign. He wasn’t sure how they knew so much, it wasn’t proprietary, but it still wasn’t common to share so many details. Steve had an answer that sounded like he’d met with Natasha and they’d be incorporating the Caribbean somehow. It didn’t make much sense. When their contact mentioned _a shrubbery_ Bucky leaned forward to put his foot down. That made no sense no matter how much he enjoyed _Monty Python_. 

There was a poke on his shoulder. 

“Buck.” Another poke. “Bucky.”

Oh. He’d fallen asleep. He cracked an eye. Steve had muted the conference call.

“Sorry.” Bucky scrubbed a hand across his face. “’M sorry. Shit. I _–_ "

“ _–_ haven’t been sleeping? I noticed.” Steve gave him a wry smile. “Listen, why don’t you stay with me? I live in Somerville. The commute’s not great, but it’s better than yours probably is.”

He was right. All the track was underground on the Red Line aside from JFK to Braintree or Ashmont. Steve might have delays, but his apartment was accessible and the tracks on the route there were clear. 

“Steve – I – “

“ _Is everything alright?_ ” Their client’s voice crackled down the line.

Steve unmuted the call. “Yes – sorry. I’ve noted the changes you’re requesting. We can have these to you by tomorrow end-of-day. Does that work?” 

“ _Perfect, thank you._ ” 

Steve ended the call, and looked up to Bucky. “Come on, Buck. You’re running yourself into the ground. I have the space.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. Who knows how long this’ll last or how long it’ll take them to get the trains running right again.”

“Fortunately, you didn’t ask anything. I offered. I’d – I’d be glad to have you stay. With me.”

Bucky wanted to say yes. He needed to say no. Because they were stilted at best in person at work. How much more of a trainwreck would he be in person for god-knows-how-long sharing the same four walls with Steve? _Sorry, I can’t stay with you because my giant schoolgirl crush on you will become unbearable and more unprofessional than it already is_ wasn’t exactly a viable response. 

Steve raised an eyebrow and looked vaguely concerned with Bucky’s silence. Fuck.

Bucky panicked and blurted (against his better judgment): “Sure! Ok. Thanks. I’d – I really appreciate it. You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. You should head home now to pack and go to sleep early. Just get here when you get here tomorrow.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you’d been promoted to CD. Natasha’ll be pissed she’s been replaced.”

Steve blushed. “I just – you look exhausted. You should ask if you can leave early, I guess is what I was trying to say.”

Bucky tried to keep from blushing and smiling too wide. He wasn’t entirely successful. “I think I will.”

*** 

He wasn’t sure what to pack; he had no idea how long he’d be at Steve’s. He made sure to empty out his fridge, at least.

Becca was beside herself. “I knew it. This is so great. Oh my god. You are about to live a Hallmark special. This is amazing. Keep me posted.”

Bucky groaned. “Becks. Come on. I called you to help me decide what to bring with me. I have a week’s worth of clothes, but should I bring more? I don’t want to look like I’m moving in, but – ”

“ – but he sort of asked you to move in until that heinous weather is over?”

“Yeah.”

“Split the difference. Bring like, a week, two weeks’ worth of clothes. I’m sure he has laundry in his building or nearby or something and if you have to go home to get something you can. Oh! Bring your movies. And your skillet.”

“…What?”

“You can cook. So, bring your skillet. And your movies. I’m not saying he doesn’t have any of his own to watch, but like, it might start a conversation about your interests, at least."

“You are not helping.” He threw his case of DVDs into his duffel bag regardless.

“I am _so helpful_. Sam would’ve told you to pack hope and condoms. So.”

Bucky hummed. “Fair enough. And yes, I will ‘keep you posted’. Nosy.” 

“Perfect. Don’t be good.”

Bucky’s email pinged. Becca had sent him a link to Savage Garden’s _I Want You._ Bucky laughed. “Goodnight, Becks.” 

By the time he was finished, he nearly couldn’t zip his duffle bag shut, but he had enough clothes, toiletries (and yes he fit his movies in but left the skillet because _come on, Becca_.) 

He wasn’t looking forward to the commute in, but he’d have been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited to see what Steve’s apartment looked like. And there was maybe a part of him hoping that something _would_ happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by the lovely:
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and 
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

A third-floor walk up in Somerville was what Steve called home.  He had the top floor, his landlord had the first, and the second floor home to an older couple.  ( _We call them triple-deckers, Buck_ ).  

It wasn't exactly spacious, but it was clean and tidy and utterly _Steve_.  Bucky found himself in the living room the moment he stepped in the door, facing three windows, a kitchen to his left and to his right there was a short hallway with three doors.  

There was artwork on the walls, mostly framed.  Some of it looked like Steve's own, some looked like prints, and a select few were beautiful and old and clearly inherited from family.  His furniture didn't look worn so much as comfortable and inviting.  

"I uh, don't have a guest room, but you're welcome to the bedroom."

"I'll sleep on the couch, Steve.  Please.  You're already doing a lot letting me stay here."

Steve scrunched his face up.

"I'll be more comfortable out here.  Promise."

Steve relented.  "Ok. Uh –" he motioned to the space to the left of the couch. "That side table is emptied out, you can use it as a bureau, if you want. Um – sorry, this isn't – "

"Steve. You're letting me stay in your apartment so I can get to work.  Please don't apologize."

"Right.  Sorry.  Ah, did you want something to eat? And the bathroom is just down the hall here.  First door on the left." 

Bucky wasn't any more snow-covered or chilly than Steve, but he was more tired; his office floor hadn't been particularly comfortable despite his intent to make do, and he imagined the couch was as cozy as it looked.  

But also he was staying with Steve – Steve was letting him crash for _who knows_  how long and he should be a good houseguest.  He set his bag down in front of the side table.

"Uh – I'm – I'd love to shower if you don't mind.  After, I can help cook."  For someone who prided himself on being a smooth motherfucker, Bucky had precisely _no game_  when it came to Steven Beautiful Rogers.

Steve smiled.  "Sure. Of course. Make yourself at home."  Steve didn't seem to be any less awkward, which wasn't the consolation Bucky was hoping it'd be.  

Bucky was so busy trying to muddle through where to put his things that was as unobtrusive as possible and also find a towel (nothing in the cabinet, maybe the hallway?) he didn't hear (well, he _heard_ , he just didn't put together what the sounds _meant_ ), Steve come up behind him and when Bucky turned to seek out a towel elsewhere, he found himself practically nose-to-nose with Steve.  

Who was holding a fluffy, dark blue towel.  "Uh.  I thought – I didn't want you to forget this."  

Bucky swallowed and did his best not to stare too long at Steve's eyes.  But like, damn, he's only human; it took him a few seconds longer than it should have to remember enough English.  "Thanks." 

It was another few moments before Steve stepped away, pulling the door behind him. Bucky leaned back against the tile wall with a sigh.  He was grateful to have a place to stay that wasn't his office floor, but he wondered if it was a good idea.  He wanted Steve.  He was _pretty sure_  Steve wanted him.  But if they could only flirt over email then they were screwed. 

Bucky resolved, as he scrubbed the chill from his skin, that he would make a concentrated effort to be less awkward around possibly the most attractive person he'd ever met.  

***

Steve Goddamn Rogers was up _Too Goddamn Early_ but Bucky was staying at his apartment on Steve’s goodwill. So when Steve made his way as quietly as he could through his own apartment (gym bag in tow, _what the fuck_ ), Bucky tried to make mountain troll noises as quietly as possible as a show of gratitude for a place to sleep that wasn’t his office floor.

It took him half an hour, but Bucky finally dragged himself out of bed (the couch was a pull-out and it was super comfortable). He figured the least he could do was make coffee and so he futzed around in the kitchen until he found mugs and got the percolator going (which, _what?_ Who even perked coffee anymore?). Which is when he noticed the wall clock. Twelve photos hung on the wall with the clock hands and mechanism in the center. He didn’t even care what the photos were _of_ in that moment because the wall clock was proclaiming that it was quarter past five in the morning. Which meant Steve left for the gym before five am. In the middle of winter. _With four feet of snow on the ground, what the fuck, Rogers_.

By the time Steve returned around six, Bucky had reset the couch and worked most of the way through his Morning Grump.

“Hey Bucky!” Steve was chipper. And had a white box as well as his gym bag. “I stopped down the street to get some breakfast. Hope you like pastry.”

Bucky hooked a thumb towards the kitchen. “I made. Coffee.”

Steve grinned, setting the box on the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. “Not much of a morning person, huh?”

Bucky carefully lifted the lid off the box while he listened to Steve move around the kitchen. There were half a dozen pastries with different fillings. “What one’s your favorite?”

Steve shrugged, appearing beside Bucky and holding out the butt-end of a butter knife. “Take a piece of everything, if you want.”

Bucky cut himself a piece of something with chocolate, something with almonds, and something with lemon. “You do this every morning?”

“Eat pastry? No. I just.” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and unsuccessfully hid a blush behind a gulp of coffee. “Thought it might be nice. You know.” 

Bucky shoved the entire piece of chocolate pastry he’d cut for himself into his mouth so he didn’t say something stupid. When he’d finally swallowed, he said instead: “Thanks, I – uh – sorry. I’m not really into. Mornings.”

Steve grinned, motioning to the mug he’d poured. “You make up for it with really good coffee then.”

“Cinnamon and nutmeg.”

“Huh?”

“I add a little cinnamon and nutmeg to the grounds.” Bucky shrugged. “Tastes better.”

Steve took another sip of his coffee. “And here I thought it was just – “ He stopped talking abruptly, and took another – large – sip. “ – Uh, another brand. You’d brought with you.”

***

“I hear you’ve managed to awkwardly flirt your way into Rogers’ apartment. I’m amazed you’re upright, I thought for sure you’d have swooned by now.”

Natasha was the Creative Director because she usually knew what a client wanted before the client did. Bucky didn’t admire the quality so much when it came to his personal life.

“How do you even – am I _that_ obvious?”

“Yes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow at the stricken look Bucky imagined he was sporting. “But Rogers is _about_ as clueless as you. So. I think you’re good; he has no idea you’re both pining for one another.”

“ _What?_ ” Natasha was clearly slipping something into her coffee every morning.

“Don’t lie to me, Barnes. You know he’s flirting with you.”

“I just. I figured he’s – you know. Being friendly-flirty. Not flirty-flirty.”

Bucky had earned _both_ of Natasha’s eyebrows, now. “I didn’t realize we were in the fifth grade again.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re staying in his apartment until this snowy nightmare is over, right? Don’t blow your chance.”

Before Bucky could respond, Natasha took her leave of him, coffee in hand and a smug smile fixed on her face.

Bucky turned to the coffee machine determined not to think about what Natasha said _at all_. Yes, he and Steve flirted over email. Kind of? Professionally, obviously. At least, that’s what he thought their tone was and Steve had never corrected him. They were both terrible at it in person so Bucky was pretty sure it was just that he was awkward and sort of reading Steve wrong and it was easier for Steve to manage from behind a screen. But then, why let Bucky stay with him if he felt it was awkward? Maybe he felt obligated; they worked together on most every project since Bucky started at S.S.R.. Oh Jesus. What if Steve felt awkward but obligated and _Bucky didn’t even realize it_ and was being a super creep and—

“Dude, are you gonna pour yourself some coffee or just have an existential crisis?”

Clint had come in at some point, Bucky realized.

“I mean, I could be wrong, but it _looks_ like you’re having a crisis. As a professional crisis-haver myself.”

“No, I’m – tired.”

“Thought you were staying with Rogers.”

Bucky startled at that. He didn’t realize Steve had told so many people already (two was a lot, considering it was only mid-morning. “Uh, yeah.”

“So is the crisis because you’re fucking, or because you’re _not_ fucking?”

“ _What_ – “ Bucky shut the door to the break room as quickly as he could. “What the fuck, Barton?” he hissed. 

“Oh, so not fucking, then.” He shrugged. “Totally thought you would be by now.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you have something to do?”

Clint shook his head, busying himself with making coffee in his (chipped) ‘Trainwreck’ mug. “Nah, the quarter isn’t over for another month. I got all my shit in order.”

It was probably true. Barton was a mess of a human and his desk was chaos only he could understand, but his numbers were always incredibly accurate and financial record-keeping scary thorough. Bucky had a mind to ask him if he’d worked for the IRS and only been fired for his sty of a cubicle.

“Right.”

Barton clapped Bucky on the shoulder before turning for the door. “Enjoy your coffee and crisis. And for the record, my money’s on you two getting together by spring.”

Before Bucky could come up with a retort, even a weak one, Clint was gone. He hadn’t been expecting Steve to be telling people Bucky was staying with him. It made sense that it might come up in conversation, but it was only a little after 10 am on the first day of work since he started staying with Steve.

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was _pretty sure_ he was overthinking it. He topped off his coffee and headed for his office determined to focus on work more than what was (or wasn’t) happening between he and Steve. And Steve’s frankly adorable bedhead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a panic attack and Steve is there to support him.
> 
> Artwork by the wonderful:
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

“Ready to head out?” Steve poked his head into Bucky’s office. He had his scarf, hat, and gloves on, and his coat draped over one arm.

“Yeah, sorry, I just – “ Bucky hastily scribbled a few quick notes on his notepad and stood. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to lose my train of thought.”

Steve smiled. “Especially not the brilliant ones.” He shrugged his coat on, a dark grey, canvas material that looked like it was goose down. Between that and his blue-and-grey hat, it did a _lot_ for Steve’s eyes and Bucky was hard-pressed to do more than stumble into his own winter wear. (Also did he call Bucky brilliant? No. Yes. _Get your coat on, Barnes.)_

“Thanks again, I really appreciate it. I’m enjoying sleeping someplace…not my floor.”

Steve screwed up his features and held the door to the building open for Bucky. “What?”

“I was – I was sleeping on my office floor.”

“Jesus.” Steve’s expression did something complicated then, shifting from a pinch between his eyebrows to a tightness of his jaw, then smoothing out as he forged half-a-step ahead of Bucky through the evening crowd.

“Can you…not tell Natasha or Fury? I didn’t know what else to do. I know I probably shouldn’t have.”

“No, Buck, I’m not – I thought you were so tired because you were commuting. You were sleeping on the floor. In the office. Oh my god.”

Bucky felt something tight and heavy twist in his chest. He liked Steve, and he hadn’t meant to let slip about sleeping in the office. He liked his job. Steve still hadn’t said anything about not telling Natasha or Fury and Bucky felt something colder than the winter wind creep up his spine. He hadn’t – he hadn’t felt like this in a while. He’d gotten used to sleeping in a bed again. The floor wasn’t awful, it just hadn’t been particularly comfortable but he hadn’t thought too much of it, he was going to make due. But maybe that wasn’t ok. Maybe that wasn’t what he should have done and now he’d— 

“Bucky.” Steve had his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, firm and solid. Steve had shuffled them over to one side of the flow of foot traffic. “Hey. You ok?”

Bucky nodded. He was losing his shit in front of Steve. Perfect. Over nothing. Not nothing. Something. A not-big-deal he might have been making a big deal. 

“I’m not going to say anything to anyone. I just.” Steve exhaled a measured breath, seeming to size Bucky up before continuing. “I was just…worried. About you.”

It took several long moments (or maybe not? Bucky felt like time had slowed down a little so he couldn’t be sure) but Bucky nodded again. “Oh. Thank you. Sorry.”

“You ok?”

Bucky nodded again. “Yeah. Sorry. I just – sometimes I get nervous. Anxious.”

“Don’t worry about it. Honest. I didn’t know that about you, and now I do.”

Bucky blinked and felt for a few moments as though his brain had short-circuited. Not so much that he leaned in and kissed Steve like he wanted to out of sheer gratuity for his understanding, but it was a near thing. 

“Thanks. Can we just take our time getting to the train station? I need a minute before getting into that crowd.”

Steve nodded, eyes roaming thoughtfully over Bucky’s face. “I’ll get us some cocoa and we can walk up a few stops? Not the whole way, but say, from here to MGH?”

Mass General wasn’t too far, but it was far enough, between the weather and taking their time. Bucky felt his shoulders drop away from his ears a bit. “Yeah.”

“Great. I’ll be right back.” Steve nodded to the Starbucks on the corner but didn’t yet step away towards it. “Is it ok if I meet you right back here?”

“I’ll be here.”

Steve nodded, squeezed Bucky’s shoulder a last time, and went.

By the time he returned, Bucky had gotten his breathing back under control. The cold was helpful and there was something in the pattern of the flow of traffic that he found calming; that he could get himself lost in. 

“Hey. Sorry, there was a little bit of a line.”

Bucky gave Steve a small, real smile. “It’s ok. I’m…better.”

Steve held out two items to Bucky. He’d gotten them large cocoas (with whipped cream) and he’d also come bearing a paper bag and a blush that Bucky didn’t think had anything to do with the cold. Inside the bag was a chocolate chip cookie and a banana.

“Thank you.” Bucky would have teared up if he hadn’t been so busy wondering if Steven Perfect Rogers was real. How in hell would he have known – “Why?”

“My mother’s a nurse. I’ve sort of learned a lot by proxy. I thought it might help. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“No, it’s – perfect.”

They took their time heading towards MGH. By the time they arrived, Bucky’d eaten both his banana and cookie and was partway through his cocoa and feeling much better. And also considering canonizing Steve, who had, half a block into their trek, wordlessly shifted to let Bucky walk on the inside of the sidewalk so that Bucky had a bit of a buffer between himself and other commuters.

“Who is it?” 

“Hm?” Steve glanced to Bucky as they waited for the lights to turn.

“Who is it that you know that has panic attacks?”

Steve ducked his head. “That obvious?”

“I’m having a hard time finding a reason to be upset about it, but yeah, pretty obvious.”

“Honestly, me. My dad died when I was young and – I don’t know. I don’t really remember because I was real little, but I remember what it felt like. It took a while. I remember what my mother did for me. As I got older, as I dealt with his death, saw a professional, it…went away, I suppose? I don’t know. Not really. I still get unusually upset when someone I love is sick, but it was really really tied to that experience. But I remember what she did.”

Bucky leaned his shoulder into Steve. “I’m going to say that thing I’ve been saying a lot to you lately.”

“Thanks?” Steve smiled.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

***

It was another half hour wait at the station by the time the next train came in and it was another half hour after that before Bucky and Steve were able to board a train. The press of people had thinned on the platform, but inside the train car itself was a different story entirely.

They managed to squeeze onto the train and people were packed tightly enough that it didn’t matter that Bucky couldn’t reach anything to hold onto. He wasn’t going anywhere. Which was great for the first five minutes. 

And then the tight, heavy feeling started to resurface. There were so many people. He liked people. There were just so _many_ and they were so _close_ and he just. The heat and all those bodies and – it wasn’t particularly hot but he felt like he couldn’t really breathe. The person at his back kept poking him ( _not on purpose, not on purpose it’s packed, it’s ok, it’s ok_ ) and it was starting to annoy him and freak him out a little, if he was honest. 

The poking stopped but there were so many people and—

“Hey. Hi. Just hold on. It’s going to be ok.” Steve was whispering. Steve had one arm around Bucky, holding him pressed against Steve while his other hand held onto the tiniest bit of the railing he could reach.

After several minutes, Bucky could feel something brush against his ear at regular intervals. Steve was – Steve was breathing slowly, out through his mouth so Bucky could feel it. It took several more minutes before Bucky matched his breathing to Steve’s.

It wasn’t until the train was pulling out of Central Station twenty minutes later that Bucky could appreciate how close they were standing; that he had his hands fisted in Steve’s jacket and Steve had an arm around him and _he’d missed being aware enough when Steve’d whispered and he just. It was probably really sexy without intending to be, Barnes why._

He wanted to be mortified, but he didn’t have the energy. He was exhausted. He’d been sleeping on his office floor and eating only what he could get for take out and he had no idea when he’d be home again. It’d been a long while since he’d had a panic attack and as he walked silently with Steve from Davis to Steve’s apartment, Bucky did himself the kindness of being okay with his panic attack. It had happened. It made sense. It was ok. Steve had helped him through it. _Steve had helped him through it_.

Steve didn’t mention it again, just made dinner with Bucky and watched the Bruins game with him and wished him a good night when he went to turn in. Bucky was eternally grateful and also pretty sure, two days in, that he was officially head-over-heels. Fuck. 

***

“So.” It was Wednesday and Bucky sighed as quietly as he could hearing what he could only describe as Tony’s Meddling Tone. “Valentine’s is in like, three days. Got any plans?”

Tony was their printer (Stark Images) and he’d been S.S.R.’s Boston-based print vendor for years. Bucky’d only known him since he’d moved to Boston but it didn’t take him long to realize that Tony was first, great at what he did and second, way more perceptive than he let on.

“I could ask you the same,” Bucky managed to drone. If he came off bored, Tony would probably lose interest. As it was, he hadn’t realized the date but fuck, Tony was right and he hadn’t even _thought_ to overthink it, until Stark mentioned it. Great.

“Oh. You _want_ to have plans. I see.”

“What? Stark – how’d – how do you get that from me asking you?”

“Barnes, that was _the worst_ deflection ever.”

“No, I’m not doing anything. What’re you doing?”

“Taking my wife out. My buddy Rhodey and his wife Maria are coming, too. It’ll be great. Are you gonna get up the guts to ask Rogers out or do I have to do everything?”

Bucky sputtered. “What the fu—“

“Whoa I was right? Damn. And here I just thought you were both super pretty and _I was right_.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t meant to give himself away and _here he was_. 

“I gotta go, Stark.”

“Good luck, Barnes.” Bucky could _hear_ Stark’s smile.

He called Becca. He didn’t want to, but he _had_ to. It wasn’t really that he didn’t want to, he liked talking to his sister, but he _also_ knew the amount of teasing the call would garner and just. So many I-told-you-so’s.

He swallowed his pride, locked his office door, and dialed his sister.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.”

“I do miss you, Becks.”

“It’s the middle of the workday. We spoke two days ago.”

“And I Venmo’ed you my half of the money for Mom’s flowers.”

“You did.” Becca smiled down the line. “What’s up? Because seriously, let’s not pretend this is a social call.”

“Staying with Steve is a _nightmare_.”

There were several long moments of silence before Rebecca responded. And when she did, it was a soothing (alarmed; Becca never used that tone unless she was trying to keep a situation calm. He hadn’t heard her use that voice in a couple years and it felt like an accomplishment to realize that): “What? Bucky, I thought you liked this guy. I thought he was sweet and smart and – all those other things you said. What happened?”

“He is all those things. More, if you let me be a little unrealistic for a minute. It’s going great. It’s just. I like him _a lot_ , Becks. Like, way more than I thought I did, and way more obviously than I thought if two coworkers and a vendor have it figured out and I haven’t even been living with the guy for a week.” 

“And what part is the problem? Is he uninterested? Straight? Not single? What’s up, you’re never been like thi—oh.” She got quiet for a moment. “Oh. Bucky, you _really_ like him.” 

“Mmhmm.” He took a deep breath and explained Natasha, and Clint, and Tony and how long it _hadn’t_ been since he’d started staying with Steve (which, he reasoned, she already knew, but it bore repeating). “And, Becks – the other day. The other day I _lost my shit_ over _nothing_ because I was overtired and frustrated and I accidentally told him I’d been sleeping in the office. I had a moment and he calmed me down and then we got on the train and – you know it usually doesn’t bother me.” 

“Right. You’ve made a ton of progress. You’re awesome at public transportation now.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t that day. He’d calmed me down and then we got on the train and it was _packed_ and it wasn’t like we could have just walked to his place in that weather. So I started losing it again. And – ”

“Spiraled?”

“Rabbit holed the _shit_ out of it. He handled it like a boss. Took me most of the way to his place to calm down and I only got to enjoy part of the trip really realizing it was so packed, I was – “ Bucky felt a blush creep up his cheeks but he kept talking, “-I was holding onto him because I couldn’t reach the bars from where I was standing but he could so I was holding onto him and he had an arm around me.”

“That’s fucking adorable Bucky. I’m sorry you panicked, but I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

“Me too.”

Becca huffed a breath, thinking quietly again for several moments. “So, I guess I’m going to ask the wrong question but you already knew that.”

Bucky cracked a smile. “Go on.”

“If everyone’s encouraging you – sure, they’re teasing you, but they aren’t exactly discouraging you, let’s be honest – maybe it’s because they’re seeing how _he’s_ looking at _you_ , too. It might not be the big leap you’re talking it up to be.”

Well, fuck. Bucky was too busy worrying if he was weirding Steve out or being too hopelessly obvious to think of that. Or rather, to take any thoughts he’d had of Steve liking him _seriously_.

“Oh.”

“Listen, up to you what you do with this suggestion, but: Valentine’s Day is in like, two days or something.”

“Three.”

“Whatever. Insert romantic declaration about John here. Valentine’s Day is in a couple days and, well, what if you made him dinner to thank him for letting you stay with him and his heroics in the face of panic and it just _happens_ to be on Valentine’s Day?”

Bucky navigated to 1800Flowers and ordered Becca something with chocolate and a teddy bear and flowers and an ostentatious bow.

“You’re brilliant. Oh my god. Becks. How is John, anyway?”

“He’s great, says hi. Looks forward to seeing you next time you’re out this way. Call me after and tell me how it went?”

“Promise.” 

***

They were sharing some Chinese and watching _Pacific Rim_ the next evening when Steve asked.

“So do you have any plans for tomorrow?” He sounded incredibly casual and as far as Bucky’s peripheral vision could tell, Steve hadn’t looked away from the TV.

“No, do you? I – Oh. I can have plans, though. I mean. If you’ve got plans here with a…guest.” He tried not to cringe at his own wording and mostly succeeded. And chanced a glance at Steve.

Who was blushing ever so slightly.

“No, I don’t either, I just. Was curious.”

“Oh.”

After a few moments, Steve ventured: “You’re single?” Bucky thought he sounded a little incredulous. Maybe.

“Yeah.” Bucky thought of what Becca had said earlier and asked: “You?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Uh. Cool.” Bucky cringed internally and proceeded to file the moment away so he could berate himself instead of falling asleep later on.

“Yeah.” Steve agreed.

They went back to their Chinese. Bucky got a jump-start on his berating as he shoveled more fried rice into his mouth. He had precisely zero chill around Steve Rogers and it was _a problem_. He hadn’t felt so awkward and stilted and nervous around someone since _college_ when he spent an inexplicable amount of time pining after Ororo Munroe (Earth Sciences class was his favorite because she was so smart and confident and between them they made just, _the best_ lab partners and no he wasn’t biased, ok?).

Which was sort of heartening, as it hadn’t gone entirely pear-shaped. They dated for a little while. Almost a year, even, before they broke up.

 _‘Ro_ , he texted Becca.

 _Eff you_ , she texted back, near immediately. _You were KIDS comparatively and also don’t use the last relationship you had as the basis for your next one._

He dialed before he realized what he was doing.

“That was _not_ my last—“ and then Bucky remembered that he was in Steve’s apartment, _sitting right next to the guy_.

He hung up. And silenced his phone. He’d call her back and apologize and explain later.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Y’ok?”

“Siblings. You know how it is.”

Steve smiled. “Only child.”

“Really?” Bucky sat back down and grabbed his take-away box again.

“Mmhmm. Was just Ma and me, growing up.”

“That explains why you’re such a pushy bastard.”

Steve laughed. “And why you’re so overbearing. Eldest, I bet.”

Bucky pointed his chopsticks at Steve. “Bingo.”

Steve turned to face Bucky a bit more than the screen. “By how many years?”

“Rebecca’s three years younger. Did you ever want siblings?”

Steve twisted his lips to one side. “Yeah. I wanted the company, but our building always had families with a bunch of kids in them so I wasn’t ever _really_ lonely. I want a bunch of kids, though.” 

“A bunch? I don’t know if the world is ready for that many Steve Rogerses.” Bucky laughed.

Steve stole a spring roll from Bucky’s container. “My own would be great, but whoever he or she is I marry, I’d want to adopt with, too.”

Bucky was _pretty sure_ that he was going to faint. He stuffed a spring roll of his own in his mouth as quickly as he could to keep from making any noises that sounded like _holy fuck you’re perfect_ or _are we both sure this is real and I’m not actually outside freezing to death._

By the time he swallowed his spring roll, Bucky had gotten himself mostly under control. “So a baseball team, or enough young artists to stage a proper coup d’etat at the Louvre?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m an equal-opportunity world-conqueror. What about you?”

“I haven’t thought much about it, to be honest. I mean, I want to have kids, I just…haven’t given a lot of thought to how many, or how.”

“Fair enough. We can’t all have overly-detailed ten-year plans. What was your favorite thing about being a big brother?”

“You do not. Oh my god. Uh. Favorite part. Uhm. At least after a certain age, being able to remember some of the growing up she did.”

“I absolutely have a crazy-detailed ten year plan I know I shouldn’t commit to, but that I have to have; I breathe easier. And that’s really sweet, Buck.”

“I mean, at the time my favorite thing was having someone I could boss around, but now, remembering her growing up is definitely one of my favorite things.”

“I have some cousins I grew up close to, but no siblings which was…similar, but just different enough, I always felt like.”

“And no roommates?” Bucky made a gesture meant to encompass the apartment.

“Not now. I’ve had some before but this place was the right price and I was ready to live without roommates.”

“Sorry.”

“No!” Steve hurried to explain. “This is different. I want you here.” Steve’s cheeks reddened. “I mean. You know.”

“Yeah. Thanks. And I know what you mean. My place in Quincy is just me, too.”

“Are you, uhm. Are you comfortable enough? Here, I mean. On the couch. I can – I don’t mind trading spaces with you, if you want. You shouldn’t have to sleep on a couch for however long.”

Bucky wasn’t sure where this conversation was going and he was trying to keep his heart on a leash. “It’s fine – it’s comfortable. Steve, it’s a bed. Honestly, I’m ok. I’m not sleeping on the office floor anymore and I’m not commuting three hours every day. It’s perfect.”

“Ok. Good.”

“I really appreciate it, by the way. I know I’ve said it but I just. Thanks.”

“Of course. I wanted to be sure you were ok.”

Bucky felt himself blush then and he was pretty sure he mumbled something resembling a ‘thank you’, but he couldn’t be sure because he was busy stealing one of Steve’s rangoon to distract them both. 

He was hopeless. _Steve_ was hopeless. Fuck.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by:
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and 
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

Bucky shuffled into Steve's apartment determined to have made dinner by the time Steve got in from the office. Becca was right, it was the least he could do and if it _happened_ to be on Valentine’s Day he had himself a fallback explanation. And also he was a decent cook and so help him god, if he lived with Steve for a month or more and _didn’t_ at least try to make a move, he'd never forgive himself no matter how awkward he felt around Steve.   _AndsowhatifitwasValentinesDay_. He was pretty sure Steve was interested in him; he caught some of Steve's sidelong glances and his blushing when either of them said something that could imply romantic interest.  But mostly, between Natasha and Clint and Tony and Becca, he had to admit he felt more confidence than he would have had otherwise.

Even taking the time to stop and pick up the groceries he needed, he was still at least an hour ahead of Steve’s arrival. Bucky’d only managed to dodge the same late-afternoon conference call because the client had liked his copy, but had some ‘adjustments’ to the design. They still had a few clients in the financial sector and sometimes, they were the hardest to please.  
  
Dinner (roast chicken and vegetables with a marinade of his own invention that was sweet and subtly spicy) was nearly finished when he heard the front door open and then the shuffle and scrape of someone shrugging off several layers of bulky outerwear and boots.   
  
"Hey! I hope you're hungry, I thought I'd make dinner." He called over his shoulder.   
  
"So you're the handsome young man my Steve's been telling me about."  
  
Bucky startled at the gentle, teasing, voice coming from the doorway between the kitchen and living room.    
  
A small blonde woman with the same mischievous blue eyes as Steve was standing in front of him with a terribly playful smile hovering over her lips. Who was in all likelihood Steve's mother.   
  
"Uh, uhm. I – I'm Bucky. Hi." He wiped his hands hastily on a dishrag and hurried to shake her hand.   
  
Disregarding his hand, she gave him a gentle hug.  "Hello, Bucky. I'm Sarah." She gave him an indulgent smile. "He told me you were handsome but he didn't tell me you were this handsome."  
  
Bucky blushed despite himself. "Uh, thank you ma'am."  
  
"What's for dinner?" She paused, surveying the kitchen. "It smells wonderful."  
  
"Chicken and veggies, and a marinade that I make. Nothing…nothing too amazing."  
  
He’d been trying to clean as he went, or at least put everything where it needed to be so the kitchen was neat. He had some of the marinade set aside in a gravy boat (and he would have teased Steve for it, except it made Bucky feel terribly domestic) and the table was set and he had glasses and a wine bottle on the counter and the timer had about forty-five minutes left. He would have gotten the dishes done in that time, but he wasn’t going to mourn the loss. It was Steve’s _mother_.  
  
Sarah dipped a finger in the extra marinade in the gravy boat (no, strike that, he was going to make fun of Steve for it anyway), and raised her eyebrows as the taste hit her.  "Boyfriend sauce."  
  
" _What?!_ " Bucky was pretty sure he squeaked.  
  
"If that doesn't get him to get over his insecurities, call me and I'll talk sense into him."  
  
Bucky blushed. "I, uhm." Hell with it, he thought. "Thank you, ma'am."  
  
"Sarah."  
  
He smiled. "Sarah."  
  
There was noise from the living room, and both Bucky and Sarah turned to see what was in all likelihood Steve walking in the front door.   
  
Steve was good at being still, even in meetings that seemed to drag on and on.  He was all efficient movement and laser focus, even walking through the office and the crowds in Faneuil Hall.  Standing just inside the doorway to his own apartment, staring at his mother and Bucky, Steve  _fidgeted._ Bucky wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been so out-of-the-ordinary.  Steve fumbled with his keys and stumbled out of his snowy boots as quickly as he could.

"Hey, hi, hello.  Ma.  Hi.  What – " Steve pulled his eyebrows together. "How did you get out here in this weather?" To be fair to Steve, Boston had several feet of snow on the ground, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d have wanted his mother traversing it just to say hi, either. 

Sarah Rogers smiled indulgently at her son and Bucky busied himself by the counter.  He’d bought a bottle of wine (he’s stopped to get a good bottle after Sharon had, unprompted, texted him a couple recommendations; she had kickass taste according to the guy at the wine shop, and was a kickass COO according to Bucky) and Bucky attended to pouring glasses while he pretended not to listen to their conversation.

"I'm ag _ing_ , not aged.  I thought I'd come by to say hello and happy Valentine’s now that my shift is over until Sunday."

"I didn't mean – I'm glad you've got the weekend off.  How are you? Happy Valentine’s Day."

Bucky handed Sarah a glass of wine and as she turned to get a coaster (because Steve had a gravy boat _and_ coasters because he was a Real Adult), Steve mouthed a relieved  _Thank you, sorry_  to Bucky as he accepted his own glass.

"Grateful I live so close to the hospital; I've never appreciated having a twenty minute walk so much."  Sarah glanced to Bucky.  "I'm sorry your first winter in Boston is this one."

Bucky hadn't told her that.  Steve took great interest in his wine glass.  "It's not so bad.  I'm just glad someone took pity on me and let me crash with them."  He smiled at Steve.

"No pity involved."  Steve looked up from his glass, flashing Bucky a quick smile.  "Especially not when you're cooking...whatever you're cooking."

"Just chicken and veg with a – " 

"Boyfr—" Sarah began to interject.

" – marinade of my own.  Sort of.  A spin on one of my mother's; sweet and spicy."  He spared a thought to ask forgiveness of his mother for talking over Sarah.

Steve nodded, glancing to his mother with suspicion before turning to Bucky.  "Need a hand with anything?"

"No, this is – this is to say thanks. For letting me stay with you. And all your help, the other day. On the train.  Just.  Just sit and, you know.  Relax."  Bucky found his own wine glass interesting and did his best not to cringe.  How was he possibly this bad at flirting.  How was Steve?   _Why was Sarah smiling oh god she was finding it so hilarious oh god he was trying to flirt with Steve in front of Steve's mother and failing spectacularly._   He hurried to set the table so he didn't have to come up with anything more embarrassing to say.  

"Don't set a place for me, hey."  Sarah turned to see Bucky fishing plates out of cupboards.  "I just dropped by to say hello and meet you, Bucky."

Bucky took a steadying breath.  Steve got his sass from his mother and Bucky was still a little off-kilter after she almost told Steve what she was calling the marinade.   _Boyfriend sauce_.  He took another breath and by the time he was at the table, his hands were steady as he set two places.  He had a third in his hands, just in case.

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, of course.” She gave Bucky a wicked smile then, blue eyes glinting. “I have my own Valentine’s plans.”

“Ma!” Steve sounded a little scandalized.

“Just because I became an AARP member recently doesn’t mean I’m dead. I date. I’m going _on_ a date. You should try it, sometime.”

Steve sputtered, and took a big sip of his wine. Bucky made his best attempt at keeping a straight face. Oh, yes. Steve got his sass from his mother.

***

By the time Sarah Rogers took her leave, the chicken only had another ten minutes left on the timer. She’d made sure to hug them both goodbye and Bucky could only imagine Steve had glared at her over Bucky’s shoulder; whatever she’d taken a breath in to whisper, she never said.

“Sorry.” Steve reappeared in the kitchen after seeing his mother out.

“What? No.” Bucky straightened up from setting the veggies, wine, and extra marinade on the table. “It was nice to meet her. She’s sweet and you totally got your sense of humor from her.”

Steve beamed. “She is. I did. Do you need a hand?”

“I’m good, you just – uh, relax.” He checked the chicken and leaned against the counter to wait. “How was the meeting?”

“Longer than it needed to be. And Natasha had plans tonight. She is _not_ pleasant when she’s pissed.”

“Did everything get sorted out, though?”

“Eventually. Provided they don’t change their minds tomorrow when I send along an updated proof.”

“Ugh. The wine was a good idea, then..”

“It’s really good.”

“I’m glad.” This was a not-Valentine’s Valentine’s dinner and so help him, Bucky was going to make some serious conversation.  “So, serious question. What’ve I been keeping you from doing with your evenings since I started crashing here?”

“Uh.” Steve blushed a little. “Really, nothing. I mean, nothing the weather hasn’t kept me from, too. I like to wander around the city and sketch or see a movie or try a new restaurant – nothing I want to do when it might take a couple hours just to get around.”

“By yourself?”

“Not always. Sometimes. I, uh, was by myself a lot? As a kid. So I sort of got used to my own company.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Rogers.”

“Really! I uh, I was a lot smaller as a kid and didn’t hit a growth spurt for…well. Until college, really.”

Bucky approached the table, setting the chicken down in the middle between their place settings. “And?”

“I was the scrawny know-it-all that kicked up fights. That doesn’t garner a lot of friends.” 

“So you’ve _always_ been trouble.”

Steve laughed and served himself. “Says you. You’re—“ Steve stopped himself abruptly, if momentarily. “You’re a troublemaker, too.”

“Army knows how to take good advantage of that. Now all my troublemaking is covert. Or well, _was_ covert.”

There. Bucky was _finally_ fucking smooth. Took him goddamn long enough.

 “Oh my god.” Steve had taken a bite of his dinner and. And Bucky wasn’t sure what to classify the sound as but he was pretty sure it was somewhere in the vicinity of a moan. “This is so fucking good.”

“Uh. Thanks, I – I’m glad you like it. Um.” So much for smooth.

“ _This_ is to thank me for letting you stay? Jesus. Remind me to do you favors more often.”

“Promise.” Bucky managed to eke out.

He wasn’t sure he remembered all of the rest of the conversation over dinner because his head was spinning because _Jesus H Christ Steve Goddamn Rogers._ He knew the food was good. He knew the conversation was good because he remembered laughing and having only a few awkward moments but he couldn’t for the life of him remember _exactly_ what they’d been talking about.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve hovered at the end of the hallway as Bucky turned his sheets down later that evening.

“Hm?”

“Thanks, for dinner. And everything. It’s. It’s really nice, having you here.”

Butterflies had taken up residence where Bucky’s stomach should have been. “I’m glad you liked it. It’s – really nice, being here.”

Steve grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve.”

Steve blushed, and hurried to his room. Bucky switched off the living room light and waited several minutes in absolute tense silence in the dark before allowing himself the quietest victory flail he could possibly manage.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a very brief mention of past self-harm in this chapter.
> 
> There is also a terrifying spider in this chapter, that looks like this:http://www.spiders.us/files/amaurobius-ferox-1-300x224.jpg . I have these in my house. I wish that I did not.
> 
> Artwork by the incredible: 
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and 
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

Boston had been granted only a couple days respite from the snow. By Tuesday, it was snowing again. Bucky was waiting for the coffee machine and watching small flakes drift slowly down.

“I am not equipped to deal with four-fucktons of this white bullshit.”

Fury had entered the break room, apparently. Bucky had almost never seen Fury in the break room. He was nearly convinced the man ran on intimidation and disappointed looks alone.

“Morning, sir.”

“Barnes.” Fury set his ‘#1 Dad’ mug on the counter and added Almond Joy creamer to the mug while he waited for the coffee to brew.

Bucky was pretty sure Natasha had bought Fury that particular mug. He was also sure, until that very moment, that the Almond Joy creamer had belonged to Sharon. But Bucky had decent self-preservation instincts and so kept his mouth shut.

“Have you ever seen a winter like this?”

Fury glanced up from his mug, casting his gaze out the window, then to Bucky. “At the risk of dating myself, the only other time I’ve seen it this bad was the blizzard of 1978. We got two feet in about thirty hours, with hurricane force winds that turned everything to ice and made it near impossible to travel and created huge snow drifts on top of what was already there.”

“Whoa.”

Fury grinned, pouring his coffee and turning towards the door. “So, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen weather like this. But if this shit doesn’t stop, I’m taking a blowtorch to my driveway.”

Fury took his leave, then, and Bucky couldn’t decide if Fury’s idea was brilliant or terrifying. Or both. He hoped someone got it on video if it ended up happening. 

He poured his own mug, (this one said ‘I’m glad to help!’ on the side, and had a middle finger on the bottom so when you tilted it, it was visible), and headed for his desk. He had some deliverables and a late-afternoon meeting and with any luck, the day would go quickly.

*** 

Bucky was looking forward to being back at Steve's. The commute was particularly hellish and he just wanted to be warm and settled (and with Steve).   
  
His meeting ended late (rather than an issue with Steve’s design like it’d been on Friday, this time it was with Bucky’s copy), and he'd _thought_ that meant his commute would be easier. Instead it meant that he caught the brunt of a disabled train, a medical emergency, _and_ the weather delays. It had been snowing all day but had changed from little flakes to much heavier, steadier snow around two and in the past two hours the wind had picked up; there was supposed to be another foot on the ground by morning. If the forecast was correct, that would mean almost eight, eight and a half feet of snow on the ground by morning.   
  
By the time he reached Harvard station, he shouldered his way off the train and started walking. They'd been stuck between Central and Harvard for nearly forty-five minutes and at that rate he'd make it to Davis faster on foot, and he was getting frustrated with the crush of people on the train. 

It was a surreal view of the city, if it was somewhat slow going. The snow was piled so high from clearing sidewalks and streets that he had to be _in_ the crosswalk a foot or two before he could _see_ the intersection he was trying to cross. He almost stopped for tea or hot chocolate or something along the way, but he knew if he got out of the weather, he’d have to force himself back into it.  
  
By the time he shuffled into Steve's apartment he was more snow than human, and it was after nine. He’d left the office shortly after six thirty.  
  
And it was _freezing_. Steve was in his outerwear.  
  
"What – ?" He tried not to sound to accusatory or despairing from behind his scarf.  
  
"Heat's out." Steve smiled regretfully, rosy nose and cheeks peeking out between his own scarf and hat. "Someone's coming in the morning, supposedly. That's the earliest someone can get here."  
  
"Fuck." So much for a hot shower.   
  
"I have some spare layers, if you want. You must be freezing. What happened?"  
  
"The train was really slow, so I walked. I knew it was bad out but I didn't realize it’d gotten _this_ bad between when I got on the train downtown and when I got off it at Harvard. And once I was out in it, I just wanted to be home."  
  
A small smile crossed Steve's face for a moment. "Come on, I have a space heater going in the bedroom. It should warm that room up enough for us to sleep. Get changed and warm up in there."  
  
Bucky felt a little faint and attributed a small shiver to the cold rather than any excitement. "Good idea."  
  
_It was a terrible idea, Barnes._ Sharing a bed with Steve, for warmth. It was going to be awesome and agonizing.  He didn’t remember much of their conversation from the dinner he’d made on Valentine’s Day, but he _did_ know that they were less awkward now. Bucky was willing to go as far as saying they were _flirting_ outside of emails and doing so successfully. Just the other day, on Sunday, Bucky was pretty sure –

_“Your ass is in the way” Steve groused from Bucky’s left._

_“My ass is great. Wait your turn for coffee.”_

_“Your ass is certainly something.” Steve stole Bucky’s mug and took a big sip before handing it back. “Ok. Commencing turn-waiting.”_

_Bucky carefully hip-checked Steve as he passed him and Steve pinched Bucky’s side in retaliation_.

And then the day before, on Monday. They’d gone into the office at different times. When Steve saw Bucky, he. Well—

_“Hey. Morning.”_

_Bucky stepped into Steve’s office, bag in hand. “Morning. I brought breakfast.”_

_Steve beamed. “Thanks, I—oh.”_

_“What?”_

_“That’s – I like that color. On you.”_

_Bucky glanced down. Usually he wore black dress slacks with a button down and (if the occasion called for it) a tie. Fury’s orders. Since the snowstorms, Fury had sent out a note letting his employees know he wanted them in the office and_ warm _so as long as they weren’t wearing pajamas (_ Barton _) they could dress how they liked. Today, he was in dark wash jeans and a maroon Henley (with a long-sleeve white shirt underneath; layers were very important)._

_“Thanks. I was pretty sure I looked more like a vagrant than anything else.”_

_“Definitely not. I like the hair.” Steve was only blushing a little. Bucky was trying not to blush too much._

_He wanted to say he’d done something with his hair, but he’d given up on it when he pulled his hat off in the lobby and his hair was wet and cold. He’d shoved a hand through it and kept moving. At least it was sort of short._

_“All for you, Rogers.”_

_Steve’s smile faltered and Bucky took that as a win. Equal footing, Rogers._

And now here they were. Going to share Steve’s bed to stay warm because they had no heat and _there was another shive_ _r good god he was chilly._  
  
It wasn't long after Bucky changed into dry clothes of his own (and Steve's, an old college sweatshirt with RISD across the front that was warm and smelled like Steve and _it was time to stop being a creep about it, Barnes_ ) that Steve grabbed his laptop and suggested they watch TV and hang out in his bedroom where they could be warm.   
  
After fidgeting for a minute, Bucky took one side of the bed as casually as he could while Steve set his computer up.  It was a queen sized bed, at least, so there was plenty of room for them both, but Bucky was a professional over-thinker and so he took the opportunity to freak out as best he could. Also to position himself so that he was perfectly in line with the air the space heater was blowing because he was still cold under all those layers.  
  
Steve'd been right – kind of. The bedroom was warmer than the rest of the apartment, but even then it was still chilly. To be fair, the heater was small and it must not have been on for very long yet.  
  
They were halfway through their third episode of _Parks and Recreation_ when Bucky caught himself snoring.   
  
"Mmph. Sorry." He scrubbed a hand across his face to wake himself up some.   
  
Steve shrugged, closing his computer. "It's getting late anyway."  
  
Bucky regretted going to brush his teeth; he’d finally started to feel warm (and completely dry) again.  Steve's bedroom might not have been particularly warm, but on the other side of the door it was truly freezing. He rushed through brushing his teeth as quick as he could and hurried back into the bedroom.   
  
"Jesus, it's fucking cold."  
  
Steve nodded on his way to brave the bathroom. "Yeah. I'm glad I had a spare heater for Mr. and Mrs. Sheehan."  
  
Of course he did. The downstairs neighbors were elderly and sweet and keeping warm thanks to Real Life Rom-Com Boy Next Door Hero Steve Rogers.  Bucky was half annoyed at how it made his heart do little flips. He teased his sister about rom-coms. He didn't _live_ them.   
  
Bucky was careful and hyper-aware of how close he was lying to Steve. No closer or farther than when they'd been watching TV, but somehow being under the covers made all the difference. He closed his eyes against his thoughts that were decidedly inappropriate and only shifted slightly in way that he hoped seemed a natural attempt to get comfortable that inadvertently put him the tiniest bit closer to Steve. (Who, in fairness, was radiating heat like he was a human version of a space heater and Bucky was hard-pressed not to snuggle up).  
  
***  
  
Bucky woke in the night and immediately noticed two things: he wasn't on the couch (Steve's bed. The heat. Right.), and that he was snuggling something warm and solid  (Steve. Holy fuck. That was _Steve_ ). And maybe a third thing, that he wasn’t cold anymore.  
  
He woke, he realized, because Steve had tightened his hold around Bucky's waist in his sleep. And then.   
  
_And then Steve woke up when Bucky had the idiot idea to shift to get his arm into a more comfortable position._  
  
"Mmh. Buck? Buck. Oh my God." Steve scrambled away. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I. I sleep cuddle. Sorry. Oh my God."   
  
From the sound of it, Steve had spoken most of his words through his hands; it was too dark for Bucky to be sure.   
  
After a moment or two of silence, Bucky found that the dark, the inability to see Steve's reaction, made him brave. Or, at least, less of a coward.   
  
"Steve. It's. It's ok. I don't – I don't mind." He groped around in the dark until he felt Steve's arm and gave it a squeeze.  "I liked it. I like _you_."  
  
He felt Steve go still. At least he couldn't see Steve's reaction, and Steve couldn’t see Bucky blush.   
  
He felt Steve shift and then the press of Steve's knees against his thigh.  
  
Carefully, Bucky turned his head to where he estimated Steve was sitting facing his side, and leaned in slowly, only stopping when he felt what had to be the edge of Steve's lips and part of his cheek, and pressed a kiss to the spot.  
  
He didn't get the opportunity to lean away too far, Steve's hand coming to cup his face and keep Bucky still while Steve sought out his lips. For all that Bucky had wanted to kiss Steve, he'd never actually put thought into what it'd be like to do it.  
  
It was gentle, Steve's lips warm and soft against his, Steve's full bottom lip resting between Bucky's own.   
  
And over too soon.   
  
"I thought I was reading you wrong." Steve whispered. Because he hadn't moved far from Bucky or because he was afraid to break the thing between them Bucky didn't know. But it was nice to know he wasn't the only one that felt like he was dreaming.   
  
"Definitely not." Bucky reeled Steve back in the scant inches he'd moved away.

***

They made out like _teenagers_ , except Bucky was pretty sure he didn't actually make out with anyone like that when he was a teenager. He wasn’t sure when during the night they woke up, but the sky was starting to lighten when they finally fell asleep again, this time with Steve's arm around his waist and nose pressed into Bucky's neck on purpose.  Bucky reveled in the closeness and the warmth. The room wasn’t very warm, but Steve was radiating heat and Bucky allowed himself the tiniest snuggle backwards to press his back against Steve’s chest.   
  
It was a good thing the storm closed the office because they woke up approximately ten minutes before they needed to sign on to work remotely for the day.   
  
It was an hour later when the radiator clanged and hissed and _thank fucking God the heat was back on_.  
  
Working from home also meant Bucky got to realize with a flutter and a twist in his gut that he and Steve had developed a routine. Steve let Bucky make the coffee because he liked how Bucky brewed it. ("The perfect amount of cinnamon and nutmeg, I never get it quite right" he'd said the week before when he’d had to make his own coffee because Bucky had stayed at his own place in Quincy overnight to grab some clothes he wanted and check his mail.) 

Steve also left Bucky the fuck alone the first hour they were awake, taking the time instead to check email and take a quick break to use his Perfect Pull-up bar that hung in his bedroom door.  
  
Bucky might have been on the tail end of his Morning Grump, but he still appreciated watching Steve do his pull-ups.   
  
The best part about working from home, aside from wearing pjs all day and an apartment that was warm enough to brave for more than a few minutes by noon, was how much more work Bucky was able to get done.  When it was lunchtime, Bucky made them sandwiches, eggs and avocado and Steve's _face_ when he realized he was going to work through lunch until Bucky made him take a break Did Not melt Bucky's heart a little. Did Not.   
  
By five pm, they were signing off and Bucky studiously ignored another text from Natasha that consisted of blatant innuendo and suggestive memes.  Sharon had sent along a link to "Baby It's Cold Outside" and then the Elmo fire gif.  
  
Bucky was pretty sure they were fucking, of which he was envious for two reasons: first, Natasha was frightening in a way that hit all his buttons and he couldn't think of a reason he'd kick her (or Sharon, for that matter) out of bed; and two, Fury had a Strict Policy about not fucking your coworkers and now that fucking a coworker ostensibly wasn't just a fantasy for him anymore, he wanted to know how they were managing it when Bucky was pretty sure Fury was only blind in one eye because he'd traded it for omniscience. (Which was maybe _way less_ than an appropriate thought but he wasn't sure how else that man knew what he knew all the time). Bucky was also now one hundred percent sure the ‘#1 Dad’ mug Fury had was from Natasha.

“What’re you scowling at?” Steve sat himself on the other end of the couch, flipping through Hulu. 

“Natasha.”

Steve nodded as if he understood, fiddling with his beer bottle. “I, uh, I didn’t realize you’d told her you were staying with me, but I’m glad you did, she – “

“What?” Bucky furrowed his brow. “I didn’t – I thought _you_ told her. And Barton.”

“No. I – “ Steve scowled. “Does this mean we’re both oblivious?”

“We _were_ , I’d like to remind you that we made out last night. _A lot_.”

Steve hummed, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Yeah, that was really – “ He stopped, sat up straighter, and then turned to fully face Bucky with a look of horrified revelation on his face. “My mother.”

“…What?”

“She was the one who told Natasha.”

Bucky felt as though he was missing a big piece of the puzzle Steve was rushing to put together. “Why do your mother and Natasha have each other’s phone numbers?”

“We’re cousins. Kind of. Twice removed or something? I don’t know how it works. I bet you anything when I told my mother about you, she told Natasha.”

“Natasha Romanoff is your cousin.” Bucky deadpanned.

“Yes?”

“You see her at family events.”

“Yes.”

“If we…” Bucky paused, “if we…become something, we’ll see her at family events. And then the office.”

“Fuck.”

Bucky nodded. “That is way too much ammunition to give someone that sly and terrifying.”

“Sharon.” Steve said, by way of countering.

“They _are_ sleeping together!”

“They’re the Great Love Story of the family, actually.”

“Cutesy stories. Pictures. Pet names.” Bucky was already picturing ways in which he could distract any of Natasha (or Sharon’s) attempts to poke fun at the office or family gatherings. He was thinking about being a part of Steve’s family gatherings. He was in _way too deep_ already. “Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Can we – I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here and I know how close quarters it is and I _really_ like making out with you and want to take you on a date. Like, several dates, actually, and I just – can we just still…go slow? Also, you told you mother about me? When?”

Bucky’d said it in a rush because he wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to otherwise. He had only enough courage to say his piece, but not enough to look Steve in the eye while he waited for a response.

“Yeah, Buck.” Steve didn’t raise his voice much above a whisper. “Yeah, we can do that. And I did. Your first week at S.S.R., actually. You walked in in your suit with that dark blue shirt and tie and I just. You’re the most handsome guy I think I’ve ever seen.”

Bucky chanced a glance up at him then, and if it weren’t for the lighting, he would have sworn that Steve was blushing ever so slightly. Not that Steve was the only one.

“I called Becca as soon as I got back to my apartment after my first day. Told her all about the hot guy at work that I had no chance with.”

Steve laughed. 

“Hey, I’m still chilly, want hot cocoa?” Let it never be said Bucky was good at segues. But he _was_ still chilly and also he was still a little shy around his crush-turned-maybe-boyfriend.

Steve hums, and glances to his phone. “Sure. I think we’ll be working from home again tomorrow, too.”

“That Fury?”

“Yeah,” Steve was quiet, fiddling with his phone while Bucky busied himself heating milk and cream. “There’s eight feet out there, now. Jesus. It’s barely been three weeks.”

Bucky rifled through Steve’s cabinets looking for the correct spices. He’d bought the chocolate on a whim at the grocery store earlier in the week and he was glad he did; the apartment was finally heated through but he felt like he was holding onto the last vestiges of the chill. He couldn’t think of a tastier way to try to banish the rest of it.

“I thought you got the powdered stuff.” Steve had joined him, apparently, leaning against the wall on the far side of the kitchen watching Bucky break up the chocolate.

Bucky shrugged. “Milk and cream, chocolate bars. And if you don’t mind a little heat, I might add some chipotle or chili powder, whatever you have.”

“You’re really good at cooking, aren’t you?”

Bucky blushed. Again. He really had to get a hold of himself. “I’m not exactly performing heart surgery.”

Steve didn’t say anything and before Bucky could turn to see his face, Steve hugged Bucky from behind and Bucky couldn’t help but lean backwards into him. He was so _warm_.

“Is this ok?”

“Mm. You’re a human furnace. How long does it usually last? This snow.”

“It’s never been this much this fast.  Seven, eight feet in three weeks – it’s not all that much more than we usually get in a season, but it’s just coming down so fast and it’s staying so cold. I _hope_ it doesn’t last too much longer, but I have no idea what might really happen. The forecast says we’re due for even more in a few days.”

Bucky moved only as much as he had to, stirring and adding other ingredients to the melting chocolate. Snuggling at the stove totally counted as taking things slow.

“I mean. Don’t – I like having you here. Don’t take it like that.” Steve added. Apparently Bucky had been too quiet for too long.

“I like being here.” Bucky did shift then, reaching for the cabinet overhead for mugs. “I wasn’t – I was just. Enjoying it. This. Being close.”

Steve hummed and once the cocoa was finished and poured, followed Bucky back to the living room. He sat close, putting an arm around Bucky and restarting their episode of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_.

***

Bucky woke in the middle of the night unsure of what had woken him and where he was. Sitting up was – he wasn’t sure if he was moving, or if the room was.

Fuck.

He was freezing and sweating. He’d hoped the hot cocoa and the steaming hot shower he was (finally) able to take would warm him up. Or that maybe, at least, he wouldn’t catch a cold. It was apparently too much to hope for.

He should never have walked home in the storm. He should just have been more patient. He couldn’t have known the heat would be out. He should have put on more layers and gotten more sleep. He should have done a lot of things. Instead he (carefully) got to his feet and went to make tea as quietly as he could. And pull on another sweatshirt and pair of socks while the water boiled. He’d sweat through the ones he wore to bed.

Bucky studied the photos that made up the wall clock that was mounted over the stove while he waited for his water to boil. It was that, or try to decide if he was shaking externally, or if his insides just felt like they were shivering. (Or both.)

Steve had clearly lined up the photos just right so they’d act as the numbers on the clock face. The twelve, three, six, and nine positions were larger than the rest and were photos of him with, presumably, friends and family. The twelve o’clock position was a photo of Steve and his mother, the other three out with friends (two of whom, when he took the time to really _look_ at the photos, were Natasha and Sharon). The other eight spots were close-ups or city scenes that suggested the number they stood for. A sailboat for the number four, the swan boats for the number two. Steve was clever and as good with a camera as he was his design suite.

Bucky was grateful in that moment for the fact that the heat had been fixed and he’d been able to go back to his pullout bed on the couch (he liked sleeping in bed with Steve. Maybe a little _too_ much and he wanted to put a little distance there. He didn’t want to jump in too fast; it was his go-to move and it usually didn’t end well. It might have been a little early and a little hopeless-romantic, but he wanted this thing with Steve to not have the ending part.)

He made his tea and shuffled back to the couch to sip it quietly in the dark, resting his head on the back of the couch between sips. He’d have to run out to the CVS down the street in the morning if Steve didn’t have any cold medicine. He hesitated to search for it now, in case he woke Steve up fumbling through cabinets. And also the couch was so comfortable and getting up again seemed like it would take more effort and energy than he had to spare. Bucky sipped his tea and fell back to sleep.

*** 

The next thing he knew, Bucky was being gently shaken awake. Steve’s face swam into his vision, blurry and concerned.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Mmph.” Bucky was pretty sure something had died in his mouth and he glanced around as much as he could without moving his head; he hoped there was water nearby. He appreciated Steve regardless of the fact that he’d woken Bucky up, but his head was still spinning and the shaking hadn’t helped.

“You feel a little clammy, y’ok?”

“Mmph. Yeah. No. I’ll pull through. I just need. All the Tylenol.” His voice sounded a little rough, though he couldn’t tell if it was from sleep or feeling sick.

Steve smirked, and left long enough to grab something out of the hall closet. “Here. Tylenol.”

Bucky gratefully swallowed a dose of the blue liquid and sat back again. “At least it’s another day we’re working from home.”

“Definitely not.” Steve sounded reproachful and the effort it took Bucky to crack an eye open proved him right: Steve was scowling and had a crease between his eyebrows. “You should rest, Buck.”

“Mm.” Bucky wanted to protest, but didn’t have all that much energy to do it. “I’ll nap, then. You work.”

And he did. The next thing he knew, there was…something in his hair. He wasn’t sure what. An inarticulate noise or two and some effort later, he cracked an eye open to see Steve, one hand moving some of Bucky’s hair out of his face and the other holding a steaming bowl.

“Hey.” Jesus, if it was possible, Bucky was sure his voice sounded worse. The nap was supposed to _help_. “Is that soup?”

Steve nodded. “Thought it was about time you ate.”

Bucky clenched his teeth around a groan as he sat up, reaching for the bowl. If he concentrated, he could see his fingers shaking only the tiniest bit. “Thanks.”

“How d’you feel?”

“Ok. Not great. I think I might take a shower.” Bucky glanced to the sheets around him. “And do some laundry. Sorry. I think I sweat all over…everything. Gross.” 

If he felt a little less shitty, Bucky would have had the energy to feel embarrassed or at least a little panicked that he was germing up Steve’s apartment, and maybe also Steve. He carefully accepted the bowl of soup instead.

The soup was great. Chicken noodle or something like that but it was _warm_ and Bucky couldn’t help but eat all of it.

His shower was amazing, though partway through he realized he needed to turn the heat down and brace himself on the wall – either he or the room was moving again. Also he couldn’t be positive, but he had the distinct feeling that he was late for something. Work maybe. No. That was absurd. He was napping because he was sick. He was just feverish and messing up his timelines. Or something.

He took his time, after that, he wanted to be safe and also he didn’t want to seem too sick in front of Steve. He wasn’t really sure why, but he had the vague notion that maybe Steve would worry and Bucky didn’t want him to.  

The effort was useless, as his return to the living room had him holding onto the wall and blinking at the couch. Something was different. Something. He wasn’t sure what, but…something.

“I changed the sheets while you were showering.” Steve said.

Oh. Apparently Bucky had said all of that out loud.

“Yeah.”

And that. And then Steve was up, headed his way with a hand extended and a frown on his face. Which deepened when he had his palm against Bucky’s forehead.

“You’re so _warm_ , Steve.” Bucky’s mouth had a mind of its own.

“Bucky, what is happening? How the hell did you get this sick this fast?” The lines were back between Steve’s eyebrows. 

Bucky shrugged. “Dunno. No. The heat. I walked that night because I was being impatient.”

Steve’s lips curved into a rueful smile. “And I almost just said ‘fuck it’ and suggested we go to my Ma’s because she had heat and a hot shower.”

 _That_ cleared some of Bucky’s brain fog, if only briefly. “Are you _blaming yourself_ because I got sick? Steve.”

“What? No, I just – a warm shower probably would’ve helped.”

“Not walking from Harvard to Davis would’ve helped, too. Don’t worry. It’s just a cold. I’m gonna lay down again and I’ll feel better in a couple days. In the meantime, stop blaming yourself.”

Bucky was _pretty sure_ he heard Steve grumble “Jerk.”

So he didn’t feel bad when he muttered “Punk.” And then collapsed back onto the couch. 

*** 

Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d slept for when his phone woke him. He spared a thought for how concerned he _should_ be about losing time like that but he decided to dwell on it later. He fumbled for the answer button and succeeded by the fourth ring.

“’Lo?”

“Jesus, you sound like shit.”

“Thanks, Sam. What’s up?”

“I’m in town for a few days. Hopefully just a few days. You’ve got a shit-ton of snow, dude. I was gonna see if you’re around but you sound a little too sick.”

“Mm. When’re you here until?”

“Sunday.”

Bucky paused. “…What, uh. What day is it?”

“Oh my God. Barnes. What the fuck. It’s Wednesday. I’m coming by.”

“’M not home, Sam.”

There was a moment of heavy silence. “If you’re in the hospital again I swear to God – “

“No. I’m – I’m not at the hospital again. I’d tell you, this time. Sorry. I learned my lesson last time. I’m staying with – “ who _was_ Steve, now? A coworker, definitely, and also a friend, but he wasn’t sure what else they were, at least not this early. “ – a friend. Someone I work wi—“

“Steve. Oh my God.” Bucky could _hear_ the smile in Sam’s voice. “ _Please_ tell me you are damsel-in-distressing your sick ass all over his apartment. This is the best.”

“Yes, I’m staying with Steve. “ Bucky wanted to refute Sam’s damsel-in-distress jab but. But Bucky was definitely wearing Steve’s RISD sweatshirt.

“I have to call Becca, because I know you won’t tell me anything. I have to go. If you’re feeling better towards the end of the week, let me know and we can catch up before I head back to DC.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Sam.”

“Mmhmm. Feel better. And _enjoy_.”

Sam hung up. Bucky groaned. Steve said:

“You hide your trips to the hospital often?”

Bucky hadn’t realized until that moment that Steve was in the living room.

Bucky levered himself up to a sitting position on the couch. “No? It was only – just…once. I, uh. Had some trouble adjusting back to civilian life and…didn’t want to trouble anyone. You know, people ask how you are and…what else _do_ you say, but fine? So. I wasn’t and. I was in the hospital for a little while, then somewhere else for a little while after that. I didn’t exactly tell Sam right away or Becca. How long have I been asleep?”

“Since yesterday night around 6? You mentioned that you’d served, but I don't know if I ever said it, so: thank you.”

Bucky peered at his phone. It was 10 in the morning. “Shit. I should get through some email, at least.” He glanced around for his laptop. “And thanks. I’ve been out six, seven years now, but at first, it was…it takes longer than the flight home to readjust after six years active duty.”

“Wow. Buck. I –“

“It was a while ago. I’ve got healthier habits now. And Sam and Becca don’t let me get away with shit now that they know I _can_ get away with it.”

“I thought you just had the one sibling?”

“No, you – yeah. Becca’s my sister. It’s just the two of us. Sam I’ve known…since we were kids. He’s our honorary brother.”

Steve nodded, quiet for several moments while he thought. “So why copywriting?”

Bucky shrugged again. “Becca suggested it. I kept journals while I served and it was helpful enough that my therapist suggested I continue the practice as I reintegrated and…it was helpful. So, Becca suggested that maybe if I wanted to go to school, I go after a degree in something I enjoy and so…here I am. What about you?”

“I’ve always drawn. Since I was little, Mum said I was more into picture books than anything and she had a hell of a time getting me to write because I preferred to doodle.”

“All that practice has clearly paid off.”

Steve blushed. “How’re you feeling?”

“The same, mostly. Maybe a little better? I’m gonna get some work done if I can and then rest again. We’ll probably be able to go into the office tomorrow so I want to be sure I’m well enough.”

Steve did something complicated with his face then, a not-quite frown and an aborted motion as if he was deciding whether or not to speak. It was only a moment or two, but Bucky saw it. Or thought he saw it, depending upon how sick he really was versus how sick he felt.

Steve smiled, then, small and tight and said: “Sounds like a plan.”

“RISD?” Bucky motioned to the sweatshirt of Steve’s he’d woken up in that he definitely hadn’t fallen asleep in.

Steve smiled, small and sweet. “You asked for it. You were pretty out of it though, I don’t think you were all the way awake. You wanted me to make you warm but you didn’t want to make me sick so…we compromised. You’re a hell of a stubborn ass when you’re half-awake and sick, you know.”

Bucky was glad he had a fever, for the first time since he’d been sick, because at least he could try to blame his blush on that. “Oh. I – sorry. Thanks.”

Steve’s grin stretched wider. “Don’t worry about it. It was cute. _You’re_ cute.”

“I’m _sick_.”

“And cute. You’re all…” Steve thought for several moments, looking Bucky over as he searched for the words, “indignant and fluffy.”

Bucky groaned. In his defense, he didn’t have too much energy for more; he was trying to conserve some for getting through his email.

Steve shrugged, unapologetic. “I can’t describe it any better. You’re so pissed you’re sick but you’re so…snuggly.”

“I’m going to bury my embarrassment in my email now. Just watch.”

Steve laughed, and gave Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze as he passed to make Bucky some tea and himself some coffee. 

Bucky made it through most of his email before his eyelids started to droop again. He had some copy to get started on, but nothing that couldn’t wait until later in the day, or even to the next one. He set his laptop aside, took some more Tylenol and some water, and snuggled back under his blankets for a nap. He felt less feverish and less foggy. Another few naps and he’d be through the worst of the cold.

***

When Bucky woke again (he had his phone near him this time so he knew it’d been only four hours and not an entire night), Bucky was _pretty sure_ the universe was playing a cruel trick on him because he was burning up again and he felt dizzy and he’d been _sure_ he broke the fever earlier in the day.

He sat up and listed to one side, Steve appearing to steady him out of nowhere (upon closer inspection, Steve had been sitting in the nearby armchair watching the basketball game on low).

“Buck?”

Bucky turned his head too fast – the room spun a little and his squinted to focus on Steve as best he could. “I think maybe I should upgrade this cold to a flu.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah I’d say so.”

Bucky peered around the room to (hopefully) get his bearings. Living room. Nighttime. Dusk. Something. There was something rumpled on the end of the couch, mottled and – a new blanket. Steve must have put it on Bucky at some point while he slept.

“Are those…whales?” Bucky squinted. No. They were little white ants.

“What?” Steve glanced in the direction Bucky was looking. “Oh, no. Polka dots. –Wait, _whales?_ ”

Bucky hummed, taking an experimental few steps away from Steve to peer at something else he was probably not seeing right. He wanted to be concerned, but at least it meant the thing he was staring at – a giant black spider with some serious looking fangs. Teeth. Whatever – probably was just dust and shadow in the corner of the ceiling.

“I may or may not be seeing straight.” He shrugged. “At least that probably means that nightmare thing I think is on the ceiling is just my imagina—“ which is when the Nightmare Thing _fell_ from the ceiling onto Bucky and he discovered it _wasn’t_ his imagination and also that he could reach a pretty impressive octave if he tried.

He scrambled to get away and _get it off_ but his balance hadn’t yet upgraded from ‘upright’ to ‘manic flailing’ and he felt himself tip decidedly towards the floor. He had no idea where the spider was.

Steve made a sound of distress and _moved_ , catching Bucky with one arm around his waist and another snuck under an arm. He shifted only slightly to stomp one foot hard against the floor.

“Got it. You definitely saw that correctly. You ok?”

Bucky felt like he wanted to swoon and a little like he wanted to get sick. Steve had taken his weight like it wasn’t a big deal and Bucky wasn’t exactly waifish. He didn’t work out as much as Steve, but he prided himself on staying fit. He settled for a weak-sounding “Yeah.” And a slightly more stable “What the hell was that?”

“Hacklemesh Weaver. They’re pretty harmless, but the males sometimes go wandering. He might have just been cold.”

Bucky blinked, and then blinked again. “Ok, I wasn’t actually expecting you to know what it was.”

Steve shrugged. “Know your enemy.”

“What?”

“I don’t like them either. Not as much as you, apparently, but I don’t like them.” He smirked.

Bucky huffed. “In my defense, I thought I was still seeing things _and_ it fell on me and also it was _huge_.”

Steve hadn’t let him go yet. “Fair enough. You ok?”

“Mm. Kind of. I think I need to lay down again. I can’t tell if I’m moving, or everything else is moving.”

An expression crossed Steve’s face that Bucky couldn’t name. “Do you think maybe you should see a doctor or go to urgent care or something? You’ve been resting for three days and you’ve only gotten worse." 

“M’ok. Promise. I just need to sleep more. And maybe a shower when I don’t feel like I’m on a tilt-a-whirl.” Steve didn’t look convinced. “If I don’t start feeling better tomorrow, then I promise I’ll go to urgent care.”

Steve smiled in such a way that Bucky could only describe as fond. Which he immediately blamed on his fever. They’d made out exactly once and hadn’t even gone on a date yet. Fond wasn’t in the cards yet, just Bucky’s addled mind.

“Fair enough. Get some rest in the meantime.”

Steve helped him back to the couch, and Bucky barely remembered closing his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by:
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and 
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

“So do you have the plague, or did Rogers give you cooties?”

It was almost a full week later, the snow was almost a foot deeper, and Bucky’d missed the opportunity to see Sam, but Bucky was finally (mostly) over his cold. And Clint was in the break room, apparently.

“I _had_ the plague. Now I’m just,” Bucky sniffled, “past the fever and working my way through a box of tissues every other hour.” He stirred an impressive amount of honey into his mug (this one had ‘mornings are best started in the afternoon’ scrawled on one side).

“Sounds gross.”

“Boys.” Natasha sauntered in, a Cheshire smile on her face. “I heard Rogers took good care of you, Barnes.”

Bucky groaned. “Oh my god. Did he tell you or did his mother?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “The Collins Family Gossip Line is a 24/7 ticker tape.”

“Wait, I thought you were Russian.” Clint frowned. “Wait, you’re related to Steve?”

“My great, great-grandmother and Steve’s are the same woman.”

“Huh.”

Bucky shook his head at the offered carafe from Barton and turned instead to Natasha. “What did she say?”

“Do I look like a pigeon to you?”

“I’m still sick. Kind of. And no. Sorry.”

Natasha nodded, retrieved her yoghurt from the fridge, (she was the only one no one stole food from, unsurprisingly), and left.

Bucky would have to ask Steve about his conversation with his mother to get any details. He hoped none of it involved the spider or his inability to string together anything but hilariously incoherent sentences for part of an afternoon, but Bucky knew better.

Those were probably the first stories Steve told her.

***

“So shorts, huh?” Natasha leaned in the doorway to Bucky’s office.

Oh. Oh goddamnit.

“No.” Bucky failed to sound less horrified than he felt.

“All I know is that at some point before you really belonged back in the office, you insisted you were well enough to go to work and got dressed to prove it.”

“And I refused to believe it was cold and snowy and Steve had to wrestle me back to the couch. He told me.” Bucky peeked at Natasha from behind the hand covering his face.

Natasha looked _delighted_. “Trust me, to hear Aunt Sarah tell it, Steve’s smitten.”

“What?” Bucky knew he was still sick but he was almost certain he was hallucinating. 

Natasha tapped the top corner of his computer. 12:05. She smiled. “Lunch hour. Off the clock. I’m not Creative Director Romanoff. I’m just Natasha-who’s-related-to-Steve-who’s-dating-you.”

“Um.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything of course, I just wanted to see your face.”

“You are a terrible human.”

“I encouraged you to get in his pants. And he’s my cousin so it wasn’t easy for me to do but I couldn’t listen to him pine over you anymore. _You’re welcome_.”

“Thanks. Who else knows?”

“Unfortunately there’s no video evidence, so not nearly enough people.” She leaned away from the doorway, sly smile fixed on her face. “But I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks, boss.” Bucky smiled, lifting his mug ever so slightly at her in salute. The tea he was sipping had come from a box that had appeared on his chair that morning, along with a box of Kleenex, a surgical mask, and a fake ‘cover your fucking mouth’ PSA.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The edges of her lips twitched upwards just a tiny bit, and Natasha stepped away towards her office.

***

Bucky felt lightheaded, but not because he was on the tail-end of a flu. Natasha said that Sarah said Steve was smitten. And that sort of made him feel like he was in middle school with the round-robin of gossip, but it also made him feel giddy.

But he couldn’t deny that Sarah and Natasha were probably right. When Bucky stepped through the door to Steve’s apartment that evening, Steve was already there.

“Hey. Did you cook?” Bucky was busy toeing off his boots, but the apartment smelled delicious.

“Lasagna. How d’you feel?” Steve didn’t turn around from where he was washing dishes but he sounded a little too nonchalant. Bucky made his way into the kitchen.

“Tired, but ok. Steve – “

“Just. Take it easy, ok?” Steve turned around then, and shook his head. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was at himself or Bucky. “Sorry. I know you said you wanted to take it slow. You were just…really sick. And some of it was endearing. But it was kinda scary, too. Buck –your temperature was really high. Ma wanted you to come in if it hadn’t broken when it did.”

Bucky had the wherewithal to identify the pit in his stomach as mortification. Steve had mentioned his father’s death, how he felt when people he cared about got sick. “What? No. Steve. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

“Also Sam says this is pretty much par for the course with you.”

“Sam?” Bucky groaned. “Oh my god, I can’t – “

“I didn’t go through your phone! Honest!” Steve rushed through the words so quickly Bucky almost missed them.

“What? No, I didn’t think you did.” Bucky sighed and decided to take the advice Becca always sassed him with: _use your words_. So he stepped forward and put his arms around Steve. That was a thing he could do now, he remembered (now that he wasn’t sick). “Thank you. Hi. This is really sweet. It’s ok. I was just…freaking out for a minute about Sam.”

Steve hugged him back and Jesus were his hugs always perfect? Bucky was willing to take the time to find out.

“He’s fine. I talked to him. I only answered your phone cause he called you three times in a row. Otherwise I’m pretty sure he’d be here.”

“Sounds about right.”

Steve leaned back far enough to see Bucky’s face. “You are really terrible at taking care of yourself, aren’t you?”

“No. Maybe. When’s dinner?”

Steve laughed, and leaned in again to give Bucky a kiss. “Soon. And be nice. I’m not hopeless, but I’m definitely not as good a cook as you.”

“It was made with – care. It’ll be delicious.” Bucky blushed and hurried to wash up. _It was made with love_ is what he was going to say and just – no. At least, not yet.

Bucky was right. It was delicious.

“Mm. Jesus, Steve. This is good. Thought you said you weren’t any good?”

Steve blushed furiously. Maybe Bucky’s hum was a little much, but he’d meant it as a compliment and also maybe hadn’t thought quickly enough to stop himself from making the sound.

“I – uh. Thanks. Also I need you to not make that sound again. At least, not until you’re completely well again.”

Bucky smirked. “Why’s that?” _Finally he could flirt with Steve. All it took was making out with him._

“You’re not well enough yet to have the energy for what I’d really like to do. After a few dates, I mean. Taking it slow, you said.”

“I did ask you out. Does this count as a date? I’d like to count it as a date.”

Steve grinned and reached across to give Bucky’s free hand a squeeze. “This is definitely a date.”

Bucky kept hold of Steve’s hand, only relinquishing it when Steve needed it (and getting it back when he didn’t.)

As far as first dates went, Bucky was pretty sure it was perfect.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puppy time! 
> 
> Artwork by the awesome:
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and 
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

 

It had been a full week and a half since Bucky got sick and he finally felt fully recovered. And he wanted to treat Steve to some dinner to thank him for helping Bucky through the worst of it (and he didn't even seem to give a shit if Bucky had been snot-crusted and half-delusional).  Bucky planned to cook a meal that weekend, but in the meantime, take-out would do.

It was several degrees below freezing and windy, but Bucky couldn't stand inside to wait for his take-out order (even with visions of Steve giving him hell for going outside when he didn’t have to right after Bucky’d gotten over a flu).  There were too many people inside and he felt in the way no matter where he stood, so he zipped his coat, tugged his hat down, and stepped outside.  

Despite the snow (the news was saying it was almost nine feet now, and it looked it), there was still far more foot and vehicle traffic than he thought there'd be.  He was so wrapped up in watching people come and go that he didn’t realize at first that he was hearing something out of place. When he registered that the crinkle and muffled crunch didn’t fit in with anything he could see, he turned to be sure he hadn't inadvertently blocked a server having a smoke break in the alley behind him.  

Nothing.  Nothing there.  He turned back to watch people hurry on their ways and heard it again not a minute later: something shuffling and low in the snow and trash in the alley behind him.  And then something fell.  This time he stepped into the alley, turning on the flashlight on his phone.  It was, well.  It was a grocery-sized paper bag, upended and shuffling through the snow.  

Carefully, reaching out as far as he could to keep his body away from whatever it was while still satisfying his curiosity, Bucky lifted the bag.  And came face-to-face with a thin, matted,  _shivering_  puppy of some kind.  There was no collar and it looked thin and unkempt enough that he didn't wonder if it was lost.  Instead, he unwound his scarf, scooped the puppy up into it, and then zipped the dog up into his coat with him. 

Bucky didn't mind the crowded restaurant so much anymore and stepped back inside to wait for his order.  The puppy hadn't done more than snuggle in, rather than struggle to get out.  If the hostess saw the dog, she didn't say anything, but given how snuggled in Bucky had made it, he was confident it just looked like he had his scarf bunched up in his jacket.  

Ten minutes more of waiting, and Bucky was on his way home with food and the puppy.  He made a fast but essential pit stop at the Petco only slightly off-course from Steve's apartment.  

He hoped Steve liked dogs.

***

Steve wasn't home yet when Bucky returned to Steve's apartment, and so he set their food aside (he could warm it up, he decided) and turned instead to the bathroom.  When he got the puppy unwound from his scarf, he couldn't even tell what color it really was, it was so dirty.   

"Ok, pal.  Bathtime.  But I promise it'll be a warm one."

It was probably best that Steve wasn't back yet, Bucky reasoned.  A dog was one thing, but a matted, dirty, smelly dog was another.  It took three gentle baths, but the puppy was finally looking and smelling clean when Bucky rinsed it off a last time.  He towel-dried the little girl, it turned out, gently (and had a sweater ready for when she was fully dry).  He carefully cut out the mats that he could (only a few, he'd make a vet appointment the next day) and sat back to get a good look at her.

She was a mottled grey and black and white and tan with beautiful blue eyes that reminded him of a Husky.  He had no idea what kind of dog she was, (aside from _his_ now because seriously she was  _so cute)_ , but she was scrawny and couldn’t have been more than a couple months old.

He set her up in the kitchen with a bed, some food and water. She was quick to eat and he kept her sequestered with a couple of chairs and a few boxes from Steve’s recycling bin that he taped together. Her collar didn't have a tag on it yet, but he at least had a way to take her outside on a leash.  

Steve walked in the door just as Bucky searched for a mostly inconspicuous place for the bag of dog food and a couple toys.  

"Buck?"  

"Kitchen."  Bucky looked down at the dog and whispered: "Make a good first impression, girl."

Steve turned their way, and stopped mid-step.  "Is that...?"

"I found her in the snow.  She was freezing and starving and I couldn't leave her there."

He stepped aside as Steve approached so he could get a good, unobstructed look at her.  She was prancing around the enclosure Bucky had made on her back legs, her front paws almost reaching the seat of the chairs and tail going crazy.  She hadn't barked once since he'd found her, and he wondered if that was her nature or if something was wrong.  

"Oh."  Steve leaned in a bit more.  "She's – she's really cute, Bucky."

"I washed her with flea shampoo twice and once with regular dog shampoo so I know she's decently clean.  Promise."

Steve smiled and stepped back, watching Bucky with a curious, indulgent smile.  "Did you name her yet?"

"Not yet.  I can't think of anything I like."  

Steve nodded, turning and heading for the bag of take-away.  "Dinner  _and_  a puppy?"

"I thought you could use a surprise."

Steve laughed, digging through the bag.  "What about Dorothy?"

"What?"

"For her name.  I think it suits her."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve.  "You want me to name her Spot."

"Dot."  Steve corrected.

"Steve."

"Bucky."

Bucky relented after a few moments of staring Steve down, and turned to the puppy.  

"Ok.  Dorothy."

***

It took Bucky a couple of hours; dinner and part of a movie, before he realized Steve had yet to interact with Dorothy.  The moment  _after_  that, he felt guilty.

"You don't like dogs.  Oh my god.  Steve.  You don't like dogs and I brought one into your house."

"What? No, I – " Steve made a face before continuing, "I don't dislike them.  I just – I was smaller, growing up.  There was a dog in the neighborhood – a big dog – that would always chase me around.  I think he thought I was trying to play with him, but I was terrified."

"I'll bring her back to my place tonight; I'm so sorry, I didn't even think before I scooped her up, she was just so little and cold I couldn't – "

"Bucky, no."  Steve held Bucky still, hands gentle on his forearms.  "It's ok.  Maybe...when you're training her, I could join you?" 

"You're sure?"

"She's little, and  _really_  cute and – yeah.  Please."

Bucky smiled wide.  "Then yeah. Yes, of course." 

***

It took him a couple days, but Bucky landed an appointment at the vet nearby.  It took them most of the day (he dropped her off on the way into the office and picked her up on his way home that evening and stayed attached to his cell phone all day because they called him for information a number of times and also he was getting pretty attached to that fuzzy, scrawny little thing).  

By the time he returned to Steve's with her, he had a tag on her collar with her name and his number, she was bathed (again) and groomed.  She'd been tested for more diseases than he could remember and vaccinated.  

And, the vet had told him, she was probably at least part Catahoula Leopard Dog.  He'd looked them up on Google when he got that news and yes – that's exactly what she looked like, if a little smaller and a little fuzzier around the ears.  

"So?" Steve greeted him from his place on the couch as Bucky walked in.  

Bucky unzipped Dorothy from his coat (she was wearing her own, but still.  She'd been alone in the cold just days before.  He was allowed to pamper her a little.  Until she was too big to pick up.   _Maybe_.)

"She did great.  Vaccinated for what she could be and tested for everything else and then she'll get some more vaccinations and boosters.  They think she's part Cata-wha-here-" he dug his phone out of his pocket and held it to Steve " – at least part that."

Steve aww'ed.  "Do they know how old she is?"

"They think three, maybe four months?  Young.  Hey, come sit on the floor."

Bucky shrugged off his winter gear and changed Dorothy's winter coat for a sweater (she'd had the mats shaved out of her fur.  It was winter.  She was tiny.  He might have stopped off at the pet store again and gotten her another sweater for variety because she looked adorable in a snowflake sweater.  Sue him.)  

Steve did as he was asked, watching as Bucky sat down next to him, his left leg pressed against Steve's right all the way down.  Steve was doing great with Dorothy, she was so little that it was easy for him to get comfortable enough with her that he'd pet her and not twitch away (anymore) when she nibbled on his fingers, but instead helped correct her.

"Let's teach her to sit."           

"What? Now?"  

"Yup."  Bucky dug around in one of his grocery bags and produced a packet of Charlee Bears.  "Training treats."  

Bucky showed him how, praising her when she just so happened to sit and immediately giving her a treat.  After a few iterations, Bucky passed the bag to Steve.  

"Me?"

"I think you have the gist of it."

Bucky was right, that didn’t mean he was _in any way_ prepared for how adorable it would be to watch Steve teach Dorothy to sit and how blinding Steve's smile would be.  

He was so fucked.  Steve on his own was irresistible enough.  But acting cute with Bucky's puppy?  Stop.  No.  He'd made the best bad decision and he snapped a picture of his genius and sent it to Steve so he'd have a copy.  

And also sent it to Becca and Sam, whose immediate responses were:  _OMFG Stop I can't tell who's cuter_  and  _that is the 800th picture you have sent me of that dog.  I can't tell who you're more gone on_ respectively.

They weren't wrong.  Steve had Dorothy sitting on command by the time Bucky was ready to let her outside a last time before bed (her housebreaking was going pretty well, if he was up several times a night to let her out).

He watched her snuggle into her dog bed, listening as the shower turned on down the hall.  It hadn't snowed all week and he was hoping that didn’t change.  The snow was nine or so feet high where it hadn't been shoveled or plowed and piled higher.  The snow farms were maxed out and officials were looking for other places to turn into temporary snow farms so that they could clear at least more of the roads and sidewalks where they most needed to.  It was crazy.  He'd never seen that much snow all at once.  

Bucky was enjoying staying with Steve, but he didn't want to wear out his welcome.  He'd been sick.  He'd brought a dog into Steve's home. He was generally disrupting the routine Steve had built for himself living alone. Even if, as Steve said, he was no more disrupted by Bucky than the weather would have already made him. Bucky felt a little like an imposition even if Steve did offer to let him stay. And he also sort-of-secretly wanted the space, because it was making going slow and figuring out where they stood in the early stages of dating really difficult. He was going to miss staying with Steve, but he was also ready to be home and feeling like he was _really_ dating Steve because then at least then they’d have to leave the house.

He said as much to Becca when he called her the next day during his lunch hour.

“I don’t care how much you like him, you eventually need your own space, _especially_ if you just started dating. Also I’m going to steal your dog when I come visit you next.”

“That’s what I think, too. And you can’t. I’m already too attached.”

Becca hummed. “That sounds like you. What do you do with her during the day?”

“She stays at Steve’s, the downstairs neighbor comes to let her out and play with her during the day. I’ve been looking into dog walkers or pet care down by my place." 

“Or, you could bring her to work with you. As an emotional support animal, maybe?”

Bucky knew she couldn’t see his face, but he still tried to keep his features neutral. “What? Becks, why? I don’t need one.”

Bucky knew he couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was glaring when she spoke: “You only _found_ Dot because you were outside in sub-zero weather.”

“Dorothy. And there was nowhere to stand I wasn’t in the way.”

“You don’t like crowds. You haven’t for a while now. Also, yes, I bet it was hard to find a place to stand, it sounds like going outside is a necessities-only sort of thing right now.”

“Becks." 

“I’m just saying. Think about it. No need to commit one way or the other.” 

“Yeah.” 

Becca only let the silence stretch for a few moments. “So you want to keep talking about the dog and your options or Steve and living with him? Or something else entirely? You seem a little strung out today, Bucky bear.”

“Ugh.” Bucky groaned, and laughed. “Get out of my brain.”

“It’s like we’re related.” 

“I think if it doesn’t snow the rest of this week, I might be able to get back to my place this weekend.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for the best possible outcome.”

“You’re the best, Becks.”

“Eat your lunch and bat your eyes at your boyfriend. I’ll come visit once Logan looks less like the North Pole.”

***

It didn't take long for Steve's uncertainty around Dorothy to become full-blown adoration.  Steve called her Dot exclusively.  Bucky refused to call her anything but Dorothy.  

"So I was thinking," not only was Steve fully dressed, he was also rummaging in his coat closet, "it hasn't snowed in like four days and it's still cold but – we could take a walk?"

It was late enough on a Saturday morning that they could probably grab a coffee or something without there being too much of a line.  

"Dorothy would love it.  I would too."  Bucky scraped himself up off the couch and went in search of Dorothy's winter jacket, booties, and his backpack, which he lined with the fluffy blanket from Dorothy's bed.

"What're you doing?"  Steve was watching Bucky's preparations, an amused smile hovering on his lips.

"I found her in the freezing cold!  If we're taking her out for a while I want her to be warm and she's little enough that if she gets tired, she has someplace warm to sleep."

"Oh my god."  Steve stopped Bucky from zipping up his backpack with hands on his face and a thorough kiss.  "You're That dog parent.  You're adorable."

"I'm not! I just – she just – "

"Buck, it's sweet." He gave Bucky's shoulders a squeeze before stepping back with a last kiss to his forehead.  Bucky did not swoon a little.  "Now put your coat on and let's go." 

It didn't take long for Dorothy to adjust to her little purple boots (they matched the plaid jacket), and Steve treated them all to a coffee (whipped cream 'puppicino' for Dorothy) before they headed in the direction of the train.  

They had to hunt a little, but they found plenty of tunnels carved out of the snow and some sculptures in the Common.  He'd seen the pictures online but Bucky hadn't gone looking for them until Steve suggested their walk – just getting to and from work was difficult enough without attempting to stay outside for  _fun_.  

"This is fun, Steve."  Bucky squeezed their gloved hands together.  Dorothy had gotten tired an hour or so into their walk and she was snuggled up in the backpack Bucky had shouldered so that it lay against his chest.  

"I'm glad.  I was starting to feel a little stir-crazy.  At least the sun's out.  You warm enough?"

"I think I could go for a warm up soon. Hey, look, another tunnel."

On some corners, there'd been tunnels carved out of the snow.  Bucky would've questioned the structural integrity if he wasn't positive they were frozen solid.  Especially on the corners, it was hard to move the snow, between what had fallen and what was pushed aside from the streets.  

Steve fumbled in his pocket and produced his phone.  "One selfie.  Especially with Dot looking so cute."

Her head was peeking out of the top of the backpack, resting against Bucky's chest (and she only snored every once in a while).

Bucky tried not to smile too wide for the photos (because they definitely took several) and sent one of the ones Steve shared with him to his sister and Sam.

 _Is that your Christmas card for this year?_  Sam texted.

 _My people do not celebrate your Christmas.  But seriously if we're still together then, I'll be sending everyone I know a copy_.  Bucky awkwardly pecked out with one thumb poking out of his glove.

 _Is this my Save the Date?_   from Becca.

 _You're atrocious.  Maybe someday._   Bucky wasn't faring any better with his taking-it-slow mentality.  To be fair, the pictures looked super adorable and he felt so... _domestic._ Established.  Something.

When Bucky looked up from his phone, Steve was watching him with a curious expression.   

"Sorry.  I just.  Sent it to Becca and Sam."  Bucky felt himself blush and he hoped it wasn't too obvious.  Or that he could blame it on the cold.  "I just really liked how they came out."

"Me too. I'm – I really like you, Buck.  I'm sorry it took apocalyptic weather to make me do something about it."

"I mean, technically, I kissed you."  Bucky felt a grin creeping over his features.

"I invited you to sleep in my bed  _and_  I sleep-snuggled you!"

"Fine," Bucky leaned forward to give Steve a peck on the lips, "but I'm only conceding because you're so handsome."

***

Dorothy was small enough and cute enough that finding a place to warm up and eat was easy.   

"So you've never lived anywhere else?"

"I mean," Steve shrugged, "Rhode Island, when I was in college, but otherwise I've always lived in Boston.  I've always kind of wished I was a little more nomadic, though." 

"It's exciting, and a little exhausting."

"What made you want to leave home?"

It was Bucky's turn to shrug. "I dunno, I grew up in Indiana and I was just...tired of living where I'd always been.  Joined the Army, got sent all over the place for a while. Spent a lot of time overseas.  Then when I got back, it was California for college."

Steve nodded. "Why Boston?"

"I'd never lived on the east coast before, so I figured it was time to give it a try." 

Steve swallowed a bite of his burger.  "We're not leaving a great impression I don't think."

"The weather sucks almost everywhere."

"Think you're hanging around for a while then?"  Steve was busy picking out the fry with the most rosemary and parmesan when he asked and Bucky tried not to read too much hope into Steve's tone.  

Bucky knocked his toe into Steve's ankle under the table, waiting until Steve met his eyes to nod.  "There's a lot of things I like about Boston.  You especially."

Steve blushed and bumped his foot against Bucky's in return.  "I really am sorry, you know.  For waiting so long.  I'm just...really bad at this.  The dating thing.  And you're so – I was so intimidated."

Bucky swallowed his sip of beer hard.  " _What_? Of – me?"

"You showed up on your first day in your suit and tie and your hair and your eyes and I was pretty sure that people didn't actually  _look_  like that unless they'd been pretty heavily photoshopped.  Natasha teased me from the first day you were in the office." 

Bucky couldn't help the smile that crept across his face.  "If it makes you feel any better, I've spent the past eight months whining at my sister and Sam about how I never stood a chance with someone like you."

Steve reached across the table to take Bucky's hand.  "Can we agree that we'll be nicer about ourselves, to ourselves, considering how much we think of each other?"

Bucky let out a relieved huff and squeezed Steve's hand.  "Sounds perfect.  Also I still have no idea why you were intimidated, your flirting – at least over email – was top-tier."

"Sharon taught me."

"What?"

"I – " Steve blushed again. "I would text her and she'd help me figure out what to say until I got the hang of it myself.  We need to double-date with her and Natasha, as much as I hate to open ourselves up to their mischief.  Without them I never would have had enough charm to catch your interest."

"She's got great taste in wine and I need to hear more about this Great Love Story of the Family title they hold; a double-date sounds perfect, no matter how many YouTube videos they send me to tease me."

Steve burst out laughing.  "No!  You too?"

"So many ballads, Steve."

" _So many_."  

***

They were heading back towards the train for the evening when Steve asked.  

"Can I ...ask you something?"

"Yes?"  Bucky wasn't sure why Steve was so hesitant and he settled his hand in to scratch behind Dorothy's ears to wait for Steve to continue.

"What's uhm.  It's a silly question.  But, what's with the hat?"

"What?"  Bucky glanced up as if he could see the hat.  It was a Nordic pattern with a single pom-pom on top and an obnoxious, offensive pattern.  It was his favorite hat.

"The hat."

"Steve, I've worn this almost every day since it's been cold enough.  You – seriously?"

"The suspense is killing me.  I can't take it anymore."

"It's a gift from Becca.  When I told her I was moving to Boston she got me a 'going away present'.  It's atrocious.  I love it."

"How do you get away with wearing it everywhere? Aren't people offended?"

"Most people don't notice.  And if they do, they usually laugh."

"It's two reindeer fucking.  How do they  _not_  notice?"

Bucky shrugged. "I dunno.  Clint calls them gayndeer."

Steve laughed, loud and bright.  "Oh my god.  Barton.  That's perfect."

"Mmhmm."  Bucky leaned his shoulder into Steve as they walked.  "This was nice. Freezing, but nice."

Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky, keeping him close, and pressed a kiss to his temple.  "It'll be nicer when I can take you out and it's  _not_  below freezing."

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide.  Especially given that he’d likely be moving home if the weather held for a few more days, it was nice to know Steve was thinking of the future, too. 

*** 

When Bucky got back to Steve’s that Monday evening, he hadn’t even taken his jacket off before he realized something was wrong.

Before he realized Dorothy hadn’t come bounding up to greet him. And Steve was gone.

He heard the door to the building close and hurried steps on the stairs.

“Bucky.” Steve looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I – “

“Where’s Dorothy?” Bucky felt his chest tighten but. His puppy was missing and he had to keep his shit together because she’d freeze if he didn’t. 

“She – I took her out, to let her pee, like always when I’m home first and – I don’t know how, I swear to god – she slipped her leash. I don’t know if it wasn’t fully clipped or if it was frozen and didn’t close or – I’m sorry.” 

It was seven thirty. “How long has she been missing?”

“Half an hour. Maybe a little more. I don’t – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I came back to get a flashlight and some treats.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Bucky hadn’t meant to snap.

“I – I was just trying to hurry and find her. I didn’t think – I should have. I’m sorry.”

“What. Happened?”

“I took her out to pee. She was sniffing the neighbor’s fence. I – “ Steve made a face then, expression tight, “I got a text and I was answering it and when I looked down she – she wasn’t there.”

“You weren’t watching the puppy.” Bucky repeated, slow enough to keep his voice even. 

“No – I mean, yes, but just – it was only a minute.”

“Looks like that was long enough. She’s a _puppy_ , Steve. She’s a baby! You’re supposed to be careful with them!” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice.

Steve’s features had gone tight, lips pressed together and eyes narrowed, anger and upset heavy in the crease of his brow. “I said I was sorry. More times than I can remember right now. It was an accident. I wouldn’t do that, not on purpose. I know she’s a baby. I’m sorry.” 

Bucky huffed out a frustrated breath and stomped into the kitchen, snowy boots and terror and anger and all, and grabbed Dorothy’s favorite toy, a stuffed, squeaky hedgehog.

“Let’s just find her. It’s too cold and she’s too little.” Bucky crashed down the stairs without looking back.

“I already checked the neighbors’ yards.” Steve hurried behind him, treats making dull raps against the tin.

Bucky turned to face Steve and berate him. He did. But the look on Steve’s _face_. He looked equal parts guilty and terrified.

“We’ll find her.” Bucky felt less confident than he sounded. “I’ll cover the side streets, you look on the main roads. Don’t chase her; she’ll think it’s a game. Just…use the treats to get her to come to you.”

“Ok. Alright. Bucky. I’m so sorry.”

“Later. Let’s just find her.”

He wandered down side streets two blocks on either side of Steve’s building with no sign of Dorothy. Steve caught up to him as he made it back to Steve’s building.

Bucky was pretty sure he should have been panicking. He was worried and angry but he didn’t feel the panic he thought he would. It would probably come later, when he had Dorothy back. _If_ , his brain supplied. No, when.

“I searched a two block radius in every direction around the building. Haven’t found her.”

“I did the same, on the main streets. Fuck, Bucky I’m so sorry.”

Bucky shook his head. “Where do you usually take her, when you let her out? Just in the yard?”

“No, I do a circuit with her that takes us into the park. There’s not a ton of paths dug out, but there’s a couple.”

“Let’s walk that route, then. Lead the way.”

Steve did, taking his time to shake the treat jar while Bucky called for her. They’d been outside almost an hour by the time they made it partway through the park circuit. There was still no sign of Dorothy.

Steve was right that there’d been paths carved out, but not many. She was too little to get far without them, but still he worried that she’d found her way into unshoveled snow.

Bucky called for her again as they came three-quarters of the way through the park path. He had to keep looking. He couldn’t try again in the morning, it was too cold and she was too little.

“Shh.” Steve held up a hand, flicking the flashlight on with the other. “Listen.”

Bucky froze mid-step, straining to hear whatever it was Steve thought he heard.

“What – "

Bucky didn’t get to finish his sentence before Steve climbed up onto the snow piled up around the path and flailed off into the deep snow. Bucky hurried to follow him and found it was about as difficult as it looked. The most recent snowfall was only partially frozen; he and Steve were heavy enough to break through the surface a foot or so before the snow held their weight.

By the time Bucky caught up with Steve, Steve was crouched down in the snow and fumbling in his jacket.

“Steve – “

“I’ve got her!” Steve turned and stood as carefully as he could, only stumbling a step as he got his feet under him in the snow. Tucked into his jacket, wound up in his scarf, and with Steve’s hat pulled onto her head, (Bucky would have to lose his shit about how cute that was later on when he was calm), was Dorothy.

Bucky made a decidedly unimpressive sound and lurched forward, snuggling up to Dorothy and by proxy, Steve. Steve held them all upright for a moment while Bucky composed himself and kissed Dorothy all over her fuzzy face.

“Let’s get her home, we can wrap her up in a heating blanket for a while.” The words reverberated against Bucky’s cheek.

He let Steve carry her (with her leash firmly attached), as she was wrapped up tight in his coat and Bucky didn’t want to risk making her any colder. He called and left the vet a message as they walked; hopefully he could get her in first thing in the morning to be sure she was ok.

It was awkward, back at the apartment. Bucky got Dorothy settled and cozy and Steve made himself scarce, for a while.  

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky didn’t look away from petting Dorothy, listening as Steve finally emerged from wherever he’d been and puttered with the makings of a sandwich for lunch the next day.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I was just scared.”

Steve’s footsteps drew closer, until Bucky could see Steve seat himself just within touching distance. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention and I should’ve been.”

“It was an accident; she’s home safe now. It’s ok Steve.”

Steve was silent.

He was silent long enough that Bucky eventually looked up. Steve hadn’t moved from his seat near Bucky and he looked miserable. 

“Steve don’t beat yourself up. It _was_ an accident. I know that, you’d never hurt her. And – and I should apologize, too. I was really worried.”

“She could’ve—“ Steve cuts himself off.

“Hey. Steve.” Bucky turned toward Steve, giving his knee a squeeze. “She’s ok. And you’re right, you know. We make a hell of a team. We couldn’t have searched that far that fast on our own, and you’re the one that heard her.”

“You thought to ask about our walks.”

Bucky shrugged, shaking Steve’s knee gently and waiting until he could catch Steve’s eye. “We’re a _good_ team. You’ve said so yourself, in writing, even. I won’t beat myself up about it if you don’t.”

Steve gave Bucky a hint of a smile. “Yeah?”

Bucky nodded, leaning forward. “Yeah.” He placed a soft, brief kiss on Steve’s lips. “She’s home safe, and warming up. She’ll be ok, and _we’ll_ be ok.” 

Steve heaved a sigh of relief, leaning into Bucky for another kiss, his eyes closed. “Thank you. I was – I kept thinking I’d blown it.”

Bucky nudged Steve’s nose with his own. “Nah. At least, not yet. There’s still plenty of time for one of us to fuck it up, though.”

Steve laughed, then, and shuffled over closer to wrap one arm around Bucky, and pet Dorothy with his other.

Bucky leaned his shoulder into Steve, and took several calming breaths to head off the tightness he could feel, now that the crisis was over. It had been awful, thinking maybe Dorothy was gone, yelling at Steve when it was obvious it was an accident and Steve felt terrible. Their first fight. Maybe? Kind of. Their first something. And Steve had been right – they made a great team. They found Dorothy and they’d, to quote Becca _used their words_. Bucky was pretty sure he and Steve were going to be great boyfriends.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I might end up posting some one-shots as follow ups to this story from various points in the timeline but for now, the fic is complete!
> 
> Artwork by the incredible:
> 
> @whatasaur: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11852442 
> 
> and 
> 
> @comedicdrama: https://comedicdrama.tumblr.com/post/164358155369

It was Saturday. 

It was Saturday and more importantly, it was the day Bucky was going to move back into his apartment.  It had stopped snowing long enough that the MBTA could clear the train tracks, and according to the news, the apocalyptic pattern of snowstorms had passed.  According to Twitter, Facebook, and the MBTA updates page, the trains were by and large running with their usual reliability.

He been looking forward to the day all week with a mix of apprehension and excitement, and now he was packing his bags back up and trying to figure out when he’d brought so much with him in the first place.  

"I'll drive you back.  I don't mind."  

Bucky turned to see Steve standing awkwardly at the end of the hallway, watching Bucky pack up his things.

"You sure? I don’t know how I managed to get all this shit in your apartment. Sorry.”  Bucky didn't want to inconvenience Steve, but he wasn't about to turn down more time in his company.  Or an easier way to get Dorothy and all of her things and all of his belongings to the other side of the city.  

They were going to see each other at work.  And on dates.  And they both had perfectly serviceable cell phones.  It was just.  Going to be different. Bucky was going to miss being at Steve's.  Catching himself thinking of Steve's apartment when he thought of 'going home' at the end of the day.  He was going to enjoy having his own space back and getting to feel like they were _going_ on dates and not just eating in.

He was so hopeless.  

"Not at all."  Steve cut through Bucky's train of thought with a smile.  "Besides, we can't have Dot's toes going cold."

Bucky looked down at Dorothy, who was sitting on the couch and watching Bucky's packing with great interest.  He was saving her things for last, unwilling to excite her too early.  He'd only had her a couple of weeks but already she was bigger and her fur growing back in the spots where it'd had to be shaved.  She hated the cold and much to Bucky's surprise, had taken fairly quickly to snowshoes and her jackets.

He gave her a scratch behind her ears. "At least  _someone's_  spoiling you."  Bucky glanced back to Steve.  "I'll make us some dinner, if you don't mind a quick stop at the grocery store on the way to my place."

"I'd like that."  Steve opened and closed his mouth once, twice, and then added: "We've got plenty of time, too.  So, no rush."

Bucky wasn't sure he could speak while his stomach flipped but after a moment he managed to smile and thank Steve.

***

Getting back to his apartment was much better than he expected. The air felt a little stale but Dorothy was excited to have someplace new to explore and Bucky had missed his own space.

“You have a _lot_ of books.” Steve was staring at his living room and the three tall bookshelves he had crammed with books.

“Yeah” Bucky smirked “Sam got me a Kindle for Christmas this year, which helped. I’m pretty much completely out of space in here for any more physical books. I need to donate some to the library when I have the time.”

Steve laughed. “Buck you have an almost intimidating amount of books. How often do you read?”

“A book or two a week, maybe? A lot. Oh.” He motioned Steve over. “The grand tour.”

Bucky liked his apartment because it had a ton of windows and was fairly open, for its size. The front door opened into the living room with a breakfast bar built into the wall to separate it from the kitchen. Down a short hallway on the right was a linen closet, a bathroom, and his bedroom. And, best of all: a small patio off of his bedroom that led to a small, shared backyard.

“You must have felt so cooped up in my place.” Steve mused.

“Why do you say that?” Bucky got Dorothy set up with some water and a place for her bed (next to his, he’d get her another one for the living room).

“My place is smaller and you actually have outdoor space here. Also you didn’t read half as much. You must have been going nuts.”

“I read! I had my Kindle. I just…preferred to hang out with you. Also, Steve, it’s not like I could have _used_ any of my yard space, the snow’s piled up higher than the windows!”

It was. He was glad to have a ground-floor apartment, but he wasn’t looking forward to taking the entire next day to shovel out a spot for Dorothy in the backyard. The snow was piled so high between snowfall and shoveling out the driveway, cars, and a walkway, he couldn’t see out any of his windows.

Steve laughed. “Ok, fair. I have a new appreciation for how much of the snow they’ve actually taken out of the city comparatively. No wonder you couldn’t get home.”

“I still can’t thank you enough, by the way. Honestly. I don’t think I’d have been able to do more than work, commute, and sleep if it hadn’t been for you.”

Steve stepped into Bucky’s space and wrapped him in a hug, ducking his head the slightest bit to give him a soft, sweet kiss. “Just make me dinner tonight and consider dating me officially.”

“I will. And I thought I was?”

“I mean, dates at my place are great, don’t get me wrong. It’s just, we barely left. I want to be able to take you out somewhere. More traditional, I guess is the word. I don’t know. I just – we haven’t talked a lot about what we are and I want to be able to call you my boyfriend. If that’s ok.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help the smile he felt curving his lips. “I think we could work something out.” He leaned in for another kiss.

And a few more. And a few more after that. When he finally felt like they were both breathing a little hard and like he’d sufficiently mussed up Steve’s hair, he gave Steve’s belt loops a tug. “Come on. Come help me with dinner.”

“And then more of that for dessert?”

Bucky cracked up as he led Steve back towards the kitchen by his hand. “Oh my god, that was so cheesy and adorable. Yes. Definitely more of that for dessert.”

***

He and Steve did a _lot_ more making out after dinner (lentil soup, beef and roast veggies with a red wine sauce), and Bucky felt his eyes start to droop as he lay cuddled up on the couch with Steve watching _Venture Brothers_.

“Think it’s your turn to stay with me, Stevie. No need to take the couch, though, if you don’t want to.”

Steve hummed. “Mm. I think so too. I don’t know that I’m ready to go home without you yet.”

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up and he burrowed back into Steve the slightest bit. “It’s gonna be different.” He’d gotten used to having Steve around all the time. He felt something in his chest grow tight.

Steve was quiet for several minutes. When he finally spoke, he was very quiet. “I know you said you wanted to take things slow, and I want to do that, too. But…” Steve paused, releasing a slow, tense breath, “I really liked having you in my home. It’s too early – _crazy_ early to think about – you know, doing that again – but I just. You should know. I really liked it, and I’m going to miss it and maybe someday we can do it again. Longer term. Someday. Going slow, you said.”

Bucky took several deep, slow breaths to calm the tightness in his chest that was either anxiety or excitement. “Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re right that it’s early – _crazy_ early – to think about. But I think. I think I’d really like that too, someday.”

Bucky felt Steve smile wide and slow against his shoulder and Bucky snuggled in further, feeling the tight thing in his chest ease. He shifted only to lift Steve’s arm from where it was draped over Bucky’s waist and kiss Steve’s fingers. He replaced Steve’s arm and closed his eyes. It was good. They were good. They were going to _be_ good. Together.


End file.
